


Seeds of Hate

by merlenhiver



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blackmail, Bonding, Bottom!Khan, Consent Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Miscarriage, Mpreg, PTSD, Rape Recovery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-30 02:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 87,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merlenhiver/pseuds/merlenhiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After capturing John Harrison on the Klingon home world, Jim discovers the most curious thing about his prisoner: he is an Omega. Drawn to him despite his better judgment Jim has to face up to his Alpha side in way he's never had to before.</p><p>When the horrible truth about Marcus’s treatment of Khan is revealed, Jim finds himself desperate to make things right for the Omega – even if it could cost him his command.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the warnings in the tags. Everything Kirk/Khan is 100% consensual (or as consensual as you can get in Omegaverse). If you want to skip the non-con and violence parts, just avoid Chapter 2 – that’s where things get graphic.
> 
> Parts of the dialogue in this chapter are taken from the _Into Darkness_ movie and are not mine. Neither are the characters etc. etc.
> 
> Betaed by the amazing [JayEz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JayEz/pseuds/JayEz) – thank you, darling!
> 
> ETA 2014-05-03: The wonderful [NurseDarry](http://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/pseuds/NurseDarry) has kindly volunteered to help me with my English - thank you so much, dear! <3 I've edited the chapters according to her suggestions. All remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> ETA 2014-09-28: There's fanart now! Lunar Sheep got inspired by this story and created [this amazing drawing of Jim and Khan](http://percivalart.tumblr.com/post/97726955687/im-not-like-admiral-marcus-ill-never-do-that).

There is a three-hundred year old frozen man sleeping in a cryotube in medbay. The _Enterprise_ is marooned in Klingon space, on the brink of starting a war. Someone sabotaged the warp engine and Bones almost got blown up trying to conduct surgery on a shielded torpedo.

Yet all Jim can think about is a pair of piercing blue-green-grey eyes and a gravelly voice that seems to be hard-wired to his dick.

Jim shakes his head to get rid of the images: John Harrison, mussed black hair falling onto his forehead, eyes wild; John Harrison, all in black, pacing the confines of his cell as though he owns it.

Jim had meant to pummel him on Qo’noS, had meant to make him pay for killing all those people at HQ ( _Pike_ ). Instead, he just stood there, losing himself in the man’s power and grace and the waft of something that couldn’t possibly be, not in this place, not at this time.

The anger he then vented at his prisoner was directed as much at himself as it was at Harrison. How could he even for a moment forget what this man had done? How he had robbed him of one of the best friends he had ever had, his mentor, the one person who believed in him?

And yet he still listened. Had Scotty investigate the coordinates Harrison gave him. Had Bones open up one of the torpedoes (and hell, he had almost paid dearly for it). All on a hunch, a gut feeling that there was some truth to what Harrison was saying.

Or maybe that was just his dick talking.

And now this: a relic of a distant past, preserved in cryostasis. One more mystery to solve.                   

Spock and Carol Marcus just left medbay. Jim is alone with his doctor and the three-hundred-year old icicle. Bones had signaled him to stay behind.

“What have you got for me?” Jim asks, tearing his thoughts away from the memory of muscles rippling under a skin-tight shirt.

“I examined Harrison's blood,” Bones says. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. His immune system is off the charts; enhanced platelets, antigens, the works. Also, I’m pretty sure that until recently he used to be frozen solid, just like this guy.”

“What are you saying? That Harrison’s from another century?”

Bones nods, mouth set in a grim line. “End of the twentieth century, to be exact. Which would also explain the enhancements to his system.”

Jim draws in a sharp breath. “He’s an augment.”

It all makes sense now. Jim’s knowledge of Earth’s history might not be up to Spock’s encyclopedic standards, but he remembers the gist of the Eugenics Wars all too well: a group of genetically engineered super humans had taken over more than forty of Earth’s nations, ruling them with an iron fist until they began warring against each other. The tyrants were eventually defeated and brought to trial, but up to ninety augments were never accounted for.

Harrison must be one of them. He and the others must have escaped Earth in the cryotubes that, for some reason, had ended up in the torpedoes Admiral Marcus forced on Jim.

“I’m going to talk to the prisoner again. He owes us some answers.”

Jim turns to go but stops when he feels a hand on his arm. Bones is frowning at him.

“Jim, there’s something else. You need to watch yourself around Harrison.”

Jim chuckles. “Thanks for the warning, Doc, but I already figured that out.”

“That’s not what I meant. Jim – he’s an Omega.”

Jim stares at Bones, unable to process the information.

“He… He can’t be.”

“He is. I had the blood work done twice. It’s conclusive.”

“That’s…not possible.”

“Why not?”

“Bones, I watched that man take out a squad of Klingons by himself. Genetically engineered or not, no Omega could have done that.”

“Well, this Omega has. I’m just saying, be careful around him. You don’t know how his… _status_ might affect you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on, Jim, you know what I mean! How long has it been since you’ve had an actual Omega?”

Jim can feel the heat rise in his cheeks, but he can’t tell if it’s from anger or embarrassment.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Well, considering that there aren’t many left on Earth these days, I’m guessing it’s been a while. I’m not judging you, man, it’s simple biology. All I’m saying is, watch yourself. Don’t let yourself be manipulated.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Jim grinds out.

At least now he has an explanation for his obsession with Harrison ever since they met. It’s just his Alpha hormones going haywire in the vicinity of an Omega. Jim might not have much experience with what nature claims is his one and truly desirable choice for a mate, but his body apparently doesn’t have the same limitations.

Jim doesn’t know whether to be angrier at himself or Harrison for being affected like this. How was he supposed to function as captain if his judgment was impaired by his Alpha status? It was never a problem before and he refuses to let it grow into one now.

He calls Spock to accompany him to the brig. At least with the Vulcan there, someone will be able to keep a clear head.                                                                                                                                                         

*~*~*

The man pretending to be John Harrison watches them as they enter the holding area, predator eyes following them until they come to stand in front of his cell.

It still confuses the hell out of Jim, how this man with all his apparent power and strength can possibly be an Omega. Jim has only ever met two Omegas in his life, has had sex with one of them, and they were both… Well, he would probably have to call them _submissive_. Frail. Dependent on him and his Alpha strength to provide for them.

John Harrison doesn’t seem the least bit frail and Jim would never dare to call him submissive; quite the opposite, in fact. He has the bearing of a man born to rule, someone who feels comfortable reclining on a throne in a palatial audience chamber, receiving his subjects.

Luckily, there’s no chance for Jim to smell Harrison with the force-field still in place, but still his mind flashes back to a strong forearm held out for Bones to take a blood sample and his own stirring desire to lick that wrist, to sink his teeth into the tender flesh –

Spock is shifting on his feet, looking curiously at him. Jim clears his throat, willing himself not to blush, and forces his attention back to the present.

“Why is there a man in that torpedo?” he asks Harrison without preamble.

“There are men and women in all those torpedoes, Captain, I put them there.”

Harrison makes eye contact, sending a shiver down Jim’s spine. Jim quickly looks at Spock to anchor himself before he poses the next question.

“Who the hell are you?”

“A remnant of a time long past. Genetically engineered to be superior so as to lead others to peace in a world at war. But we were condemned as criminals, forced into exile. For centuries we slept, hoping when we awoke things would be different.”

Harrison’s focus is on Spock now and Jim feels strangely bereft of his attention.

“But as a result of the destruction of Vulcan, your Starfleet began to aggressively search distant quadrants of space. My ship was found adrift. I alone was revived.”

“I looked up John Harrison,” Jim says. “Until a year ago he didn’t exist.” Technically, it was Spock who did the research, but Harrison doesn’t need to know that.

“John Harrison was a fiction created the moment I was awoken by your Admiral Marcus to help him advance his cause, a smokescreen to conceal my true identity. My name is Khan.”

He speaks the name as though it’s supposed to mean something. And indeed it does. Khan Noonien Singh, Jim remembers, ruled over one quarter of the Earth for some years in the 1990s, from Asia to the Middle East. He was considered the best and the most dangerous of the tyrants. There were no massacres under his reign.

Jim straightens and locks eyes with Khan, who has risen and is facing him dead-on.

“Why would a Starfleet Admiral ask a three-hundred-year-old frozen man for help?” Jim asks, making sure to let his disbelief bleed through his tone.

“Because I am better.”

“At what?”

“Everything. Alexander Marcus needed to respond to an uncivilized threat in a civilized time and for that, he needed a warrior’s mind – _my_ mind. Marcus used me to design weapons, to help him realize his vision of a militarized Starfleet. He sent you to use those weapons, to fire my torpedoes on an unsuspecting planet. And then he purposely crippled your ship in enemy space, leading to one inevitable outcome: the Klingons would come searching for whomever was responsible and you would have no chance of escape. Marcus would finally have the war he talked about, the war he always wanted.”

“No,” Jim protests, unwilling to believe what he is hearing. “No. I watched you open fire on a room full of unarmed Starfleet officers. You killed them in cold blood!”

“Marcus took my crew from me!”

“You are a murderer!”

“He used my friends to control me.” Khan’s back is turned to them now, his shoulders heaving. “I tried to smuggle them to safety by concealing them in the very weapons I had designed. But I was discovered. I had no choice but to escape alone. And when I did, I had every reason to suspect that Marcus had killed every single one of the people I hold most dear. So I responded in kind.”

The sadness in Khan’s voice is so pronounced that Jim has to steel himself against the rush of emotion coursing through him – an urge to touch, to shelter, to _comfort_. He quashes it with difficulty.

“My crew is my family, Kirk. Is there anything you would not do for your family?”

There are tear tracks on Khan’s face. Jim feels himself drawn in by the loneliness in those iridescent eyes. He can’t look away.

A comm signal startles him out of his reverie.

“Proximity alert, sir,” Sulu reports. “There’s a ship at warp heading right for us.”

Jim’s heart rate speeds up. “Klingons?”

“At warp?” Khan interrupts, his eyes wide. “No, Kirk. We both know who it is.”

“I don’t think so,” Sulu says through the comm. “It’s not coming at us from Quo’noS.”

_Marcus_. Jim studies Khan’s face for any sign of deceit, of foul play, but he seems genuine. Which means Marcus has come here to –

Jim starts running before he has time to finish the thought. He has a crew to protect.

*~*~*

It doesn’t take Jim long to get Marcus to confirm Khan’s story; the only thing they differ on is the re-telling of their respective intents. Where Khan claims to have been created to bring peace to a war-weary world, Marcus calls him a criminal. Marcus, by contrast, feeds Jim some sob story about regretting his actions that led to the deaths of so many officers, and argues that he wants nothing more than to make things right.

Jim doesn’t buy it for one minute.

Above all else, the admiral seems keen to get his prisoner back. Jim knows that if he lets that happen, Khan won’t survive five minutes on Marcus’s ship.

He stalls for time.

They manage to make their escape, the _Vengeance_ in hot pursuit. Jim is about to breathe easily, but before he knows it, the _Enterprise_ is under attack and adrift in space without shields or weapons.

He finds himself pleading with Marcus to spare the lives of his crew – in vain. Just as Jim comes to the realization that they are all about to die, Scotty saves the day by miraculously appearing on board the _Vengeance_ and resetting her systems. Jim doesn’t know which god to thank for this stroke of good fortune, but he sends up a silent prayer anyway.

It’s only a matter of time before the _Vengeance_ ’s systems will be online again; they need to act quickly. As Spock so usefully points out, neither fight nor flight is available to them on the _Enterprise_.

Luckily, no-win scenarios are what Jim excels at.

*~*~*

Khan is sitting on one of the bio beds with an air of detached indifference when Jim arrives in medbay. His wrists are cuffed and the six security officers Jim assigned to him are standing guard.

Jim heads straight for the prisoner and plants himself in front of Khan.

“Tell me everything you know about that ship.”

“Dreadnought class,” Khan answers promptly. “Two times the size, three times the speed, advanced weaponry, modified for a minimal crew. Unlike most Federation vessels, it’s built solely for combat.”

“I will do everything I can to make you answer for what you did.” It’s a promise and Jim makes sure that Khan knows it. “But right now I need your help.”

“In exchange for what?”

“You said you’d do anything for your crew. I can guarantee their safety.”

“Captain, you can’t even guarantee the safety of your own crew.”

It stings to hear Khan say it out loud, but there’s no denying that he has a point. Which means Jim has to find some other leverage to convince Khan that he’s better off siding with him than taking his chances with whatever Starfleet officer gets his hands on him when this is over.

A sudden idea strikes him. 

“Bones, what are you doing with that tribble?”

Bones doesn’t look up from the bench he’s working at. “The tribble’s dead. I’m injecting Khan’s platelets into the deceased tissue of a necrotic host. Khan’s cells regenerate like nothing I’ve ever seen and I wanna know why.”

Jim never breaks eye contact with Khan. He can see the inference taking shape inside Khan’s head: refuse to help us and you and your crew will either be dead or condemned to stay lab rats for the rest of your lives. Jim is pretty sure he knows what Khan’s answer will be.

“Are you coming with me or not?”

*~*~*

Jim may not have felt it in medbay while he was still high on adrenaline, his worry about the safety of the _Enterprise_ and her crew blocking out everything else − but now that he has found a solution, a viable plan that might actually work (however crazy), the realization hits him on all senses. Khan is an Omega.

Jim can feel Khan’s eyes on him, making his skin tingle while he talks to Scotty over the comm. The cuffs are gone and Jim can sense the heat emanating from the augment’s body, his temperature higher than any normal human’s. Jim’s own body shivers at the close contact while they walk along the corridors, flanked by two pairs of security guards.

Most disturbing of all is the scent. It’s like Khan’s pheromones are permeating the very essence of Jim’s being, coiling around his spine, drawing him in until Jim wants nothing more than to drown himself in the smell of _KhanKhanKhan_.

Jim has no idea if Khan is affected by his pheromones the way Jim is by Khan’s. His poker face is still in place when they reach the entrance to the waste exhaust and slip into a pair of spacesuits. They don’t speak, but Jim can’t prevent his eyes sliding over to Khan’s taut ass as he bends down to strap on the thruster boots.

As soon as their helmets are in place, Jim breathes easier. Without Khan’s scent in his nostrils, he’s able to focus on their mission again. He leads the way down the Jefferies tube to the airlock while the ship is shifting under his feet, Sulu no doubt aligning it with the _Vengeance_ ’s hangar seven to ease their path.

Khan is all tension, his whole body poised to attack. Jim has never been the self-conscious type, but he feels clumsy in comparison, like he has suddenly grown two left feet. He shuffles into position next to Khan, careful not to touch him.

They are ready, sharing one last look between them, then they are off.

Jim’s first thought as they are shooting through space at a devilish speed is that Spock may have had a point when he mentioned the debris field between the ships. Navigating around the clutter is suicidal at best. Jim strays off course one minute and is hit by a piece of debris the next. His crew has lost Khan’s signal.

Just as Jim is about to admit to himself that this whole venture was a really bad idea, the display compass on his helmet flickers and dies. He is flying blind. There’s no chance he’ll be able to make it to the _Vengeance_ ’s airlock.

For a moment, Jim’s breathing stops.

Then suddenly there is a voice in his ear, the raspy drawl the most welcome sound Jim can imagine.

“I see you, Kirk. You’re two hundred meters ahead of me at my one o’clock. Come to your left a few degrees and follow me.”

In a matter of seconds, Jim has aligned himself next to Khan. They are flying side-by-side straight towards the airlock, which looks so much smaller from space than Jim has pictured it. They’ll never fit in.

Before he knows it, Jim is grabbed by a pair of strong arms and held tight against Khan’s body. They squeeze through the airlock with inches to spare and crash hard into the hangar floor, Khan still wrapped around him like a boa constrictor. Jim is not sure he wants to be let go.

He forces himself to open his eyes.

“Welcome aboard,” Scotty says, staring at them in amazement.

*~*~*

It only gets worse when their spacesuits are off again. Jim can’t prevent his hands from shaking when he holds out a phaser set to stun. Khan’s and his fingers touch for the briefest of moments and Jim can feel the contact vibrating through his whole body. Khan doesn’t seem completely unaffected either: he stares at Jim for a long moment before leading the way to the _Vengeance_ ’s bridge, his pupils blown wide.

Jim wishes he had Spock’s mental discipline to get his biology back under control.

They are attacked while navigating through the ship’s engine compartments and Jim gets to witness another striking example of Khan’s skills at kicking ass. He’s frightening like this, frighteningly beautiful, like a magnificent predator. Jim has an overpowering urge to tame this creature, to make it _his_ , to have it stretched out under him in ecstatic bliss. He knows he’s in way over his head, but it’s getting harder and harder to see why this should be a bad idea.

Luckily for him, his ability to focus kicks back in once they have reached the command deck. For a few moments, it’s all action and adrenaline as they storm the bridge and stun everyone in sight except for Carol and her father. Then Jim has his phaser pointed at the admiral, ordering him to stand down.

“You’re not actually gonna do this, are you?” Marcus snaps, sneering at him from his position in the captain’s chair. His Alpha pheromones are wafting through the air, making Jim straighten up in response. He is not going to be intimidated by Marcus’s superior rank. Not after all he’s learned today about the man’s true motives.

“Admiral, get out of the chair.”

“You better stop and think about what you’re doing, Kirk. You better think about what you did on Quo’noS. You made an incursion onto an enemy planet, you killed a Klingon patrol. Even if you got away without a trace, war is coming! And who is gonna lead us? _You_? If I’m not in charge, our entire way of life is decimated. So you want me off this ship, you better kill me!”

Jim forces himself to stay calm despite Marcus’s taunts. “I’m not gonna kill you, sir. But I could stun your ass and drag you out of that chair.”

There is movement behind him. Out of the corner of his eye Jim can see Khan stepping closer, his phaser pointed at the admiral.

A curious look passes over Marcus’s face as he takes them both in, his eyes darting between Jim and Khan. A knowing smile forms on his lips.

“Oh. Oh! I see what’s going on here.” Marcus’s gaze lingers on Khan. “Looks like you finally found the accomplice you’ve been looking for. How did you manage it? Did you show the captain how _good_ you can be, what a perfect little Omega you’d make for him? Did you present to him and tell him he could take you over and over again? That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

There is a snarl to Jim’s right that sounds more animal than human. Khan has taken a step forward, his fist clenched tight around the phaser.

“Khan, let me handle this,” Jim says warningly. He puts himself between Khan and Marcus as a precaution. “Step down, Admiral. It’s over.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. You’re conspiring with a terrorist, Kirk, do you really expect to get away with this? There will be charges! It won’t matter what I did once Starfleet gets wind of you letting this freak of nature run wild!”

Jim can feel anger rising in him on Khan’s behalf, bristling at the derisiveness in Marcus’s voice. He is seriously considering stunning the Admiral after all, witnesses be damned.

Before Jim can make a decision, however, he’s hit in the head from behind with such force that he blacks out.

*~*~*

He comes round to the sound of screaming.

Jim’s head throbs as if his brain was making a serious attempt to burst out of his skull. Opening his eyes hurts even more, but he forces himself to locate the source of the screams. It’s Carol, looking in horror at the scene playing out in front of her.

Khan has his hands around Marcus’s head and is crushing it. Slowly, painstakingly _crushing_ it.

For a minute, Jim thinks he’s going to be sick. Marcus doesn’t even seem able to cry out anymore. One moment his hands are wrapped around Khan’s, the next they are losing their grip as his whole body goes limp.

Marcus is dead.

Khan just killed the admiral _with his bare hands_.

Before Jim can react to what’s happening, before he can do anything, a phaser blast hits Khan from behind. Khan doesn’t go down like Jim expected. Instead, he stumbles and turns to look for his attacker. Scotty is standing in front of the viewscreen, his face ghastly pale, and hits Khan with another blast from his phaser. Khan cries out in rage as he falls to his knees. Before he can get up again, Scotty aims another shot straight at his chest, and he goes down.

The bridge is quiet once Khan is unconscious. Carol is staring at her dead father like she’s frozen, apparently too deep in shock to move. It looks like her leg is broken. All around them, the stunned bridge crew is laid out like a ramshackle game of jackstraws.

They’ve won, but Jim has never felt less victorious.

*~*~*

One of the things Jim likes best about Bones is his uncanny ability to get his hands on the best whiskey this side of the Aldeberan system; another is his unerring sense of knowing when Jim desperately needs to be cheered up. Today, Bones is coming through for him on both counts.

There is a glass in Jim’s right hand, ice cubes clinking against the sides as he swirls the amber liquid. It smells heavenly, like oblivion and nights spent with a warm body or two.

Pity it doesn’t taste like forgiveness.

The _Enterprise_ is undergoing repairs, maintenance crews dispatched from Earth are lending a hand. Jim put Scotty in command of the _Vengeance_ for the time being as he knows the ship best. Aside from Khan, of course. But Khan is locked up once again in the _Enterprise_ ’s brig, waiting for whatever fate holds in store for him.

Jim doesn’t know what to hope for. His emotions are all jumbled, a confusing knot of guilt and want and even more guilt that Jim can’t seem to disentangle. He shouldn’t be able to feel anything for Khan anymore, not after what he’s done. Yet neither his heart nor his dick seems to have gotten the message.

Jim just can’t get the images out of his head: Khan’s hands wrapped around Marcus’s skull, Carol’s terror-stricken screams, and the horrifying expression on Khan’s face as he snuffed out the life of his former jailor. A tiger unleashed.

A tiger _he_ unleashed.

“It’s my fault,” Jim says out loud. He didn’t mean to; the whiskey must have loosened his tongue.

“Stop it, Jim.”

Bones is studying him from the other side of the coffee table, brows drawn tightly together.

“I allowed Khan to board that ship,” Jim goes on. “It was my idea to turn him loose so he could help us.”

“You couldn’t have foreseen this. No one could have.”

“Spock did. He warned me… He warned me not to trust Khan.”

“Well, that green-blooded worrywart isn’t exactly a glass-half-full kind of guy at the best of times.”

“I should have listened to him.”

“You did what you had to do to save the _Enterprise_. And do I have to remind you? It worked.”

“I should have kept a closer eye on Khan. Instead –”

Jim doesn’t finish. He is too ashamed to admit, even to Bones, that it was his hormones, not his brain he was relying upon on the _Vengeance_. It was his lack of self-control that cost Marcus his life. Whatever the admiral may have done, he deserved a fair trial. Not…this.

“Jim.” Bones puts his own glass down and leans over the coffee table. “You might not have been able to stop him even if you had had the chance.”

Jim frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I may have an answer as to what made him lose control like that.”

“I’m listening.”

Bones heaves a deep sigh and runs a hand over his face. “I did a thorough body scan of Khan when he was in medbay, and I found some scar tissue in his lower abdomen. Now, his cells are regenerating at a rate I’ve never come across before, so whatever caused the damage to his organs must have been massive. I’m guessing blunt force trauma, repeated blows to the stomach with some sort of club or bat.”

Jim has to swallow at the mental image of Khan writhing on the ground in pain. “So he was tortured. It unhinged him. I get it.”

“Not quite." Bones’ face darkens. “According to my scans he must have been pregnant until a few weeks ago.”

It takes a moment for the meaning to sink in.

“ _What_?”

Bones nods gravely.

“So you’re saying what – that he hooked up with an Alpha while he was preparing a war against Starfleet?”

“No. I’m saying that one of the last remaining Alphas in Starfleet induced a false heat and took advantage of him. There’s no way Khan’s body would have gone into heat this quickly after being frozen for two-hundred-and-fifty years.”

“But that – Bones, you’re saying that –”

Bones’ jaw is clenched tight as he nods. “Admiral Marcus raped a defenseless Omega while he was mad with heat. Then he made sure to get rid of the evidence by beating the crap out of him. I for one can’t blame Khan for wanting to kill that son of a bitch.”


	2. Part Two

_10 months earlier_

 

The first time Marcus crowds him against the console he’s working at, Khan lashes out on instinct. Marcus must have expected this, for he dodges the blow and grabs hold of Khan’s wrist, squeezing it with all the strength he possesses – which still isn’t enough to make Khan flinch.

What does make him flinch is the hot breath on his neck and Marcus’s free hand stroking his side and wandering down until it cups the cheek of his ass, the touch way too intimate for Khan’s comfort. Marcus is so close that Khan can feel the man’s hard-on pressing against his thigh through the fabric of their uniforms.

Marcus goes on kneading his ass while Khan holds utterly, deadly still; he doesn’t know the rules yet, is still in shock that Marcus would actually go this far, even though it doesn’t come entirely out-of-the-blue. Khan has caught the admiral leering at him more than once, appraising his body, and has done his best to ignore the lewd comments thrown at him when no one could hear. He just never expected Marcus to actually go further.

Apparently, he underestimated the man’s depravity.

No one can see them in here, invading each other’s personal space. Khan’s co-workers are on their lunch break, and the guards are stationed outside the door. He and Marcus are alone in the large science lab, the consoles on stand-by except for the one he’s at. Khan was working on the detonation mechanism for the admiral’s damned torpedoes before Marcus stepped in and distracted him.

Khan shudders as the hand on his ass finds the crack between his cheeks and suggestively slithers a finger up and down. The part of him that’s not tamed, that isn’t even remotely subdued, raises its head and spits out:

“Is there something I can help you with, _Admiral_?”

Marcus croons at the venom in Khan’s voice, apparently satisfied with having gotten him riled up. To Marcus, this is all just a game, a game in which he holds all the aces.

“Temper, _John_. We wouldn’t want there to be any accidents to your crew’s cryotubes, would we?”

Khan goes rigid at the threat. Of course Marcus wouldn’t be satisfied with extorting his advanced knowledge of weaponry from him. The man is a power-hungry sadist, and Khan has seen enough of those in his time to know that Marcus will follow up on his threat until the last of his friends is dead.

He forces himself to relax under the unwelcome touch. Marcus chuckles in his ear when he feels Khan’s surrender.

“Good. I’m glad we have an understanding. Be at my quarters at 21:00 tonight. Then we will see how far you are really willing to go to save your crew.”

With a final squeeze of Khan’s ass, Marcus steps back, straightens his uniform and walks away smirking.

It takes Khan a couple of minutes to get his breathing back under control. His hands are shaking as he continues to work at the console, doing his best to maintain his composure. He’s not sure he’s entirely successful — Captain Leto looks at him askance when she takes her place next to Khan and keeps throwing him covert glances.  Khan pretends to ignore her.

The thing is, he really doesn’t have a choice. If he disobeys Marcus’s order, it’s his friends who will suffer for it. Khan can’t risk alienating Marcus as long as he doesn’t have a clue where they are being kept.

He has eliminated a few of the more obvious hiding places – the main hangars, the flight deck, the shuttle bays.  In spite of his best efforts though, Khan hasn’t yet managed to gain access to all of Io’s systems, hasn’t been able to decrypt all the security protocols they put in place to prevent “guests” like him from sniffing around. It’s delicate work and he has to cover his tracks. That’s why up until now, he hasn’t even managed to locate his ship, let alone the seventy-two remaining cryotubes.

(Seventy-two. There had been eighty-four when they left Earth. Twelve of his closest friends had been lost to malfunctioning equipment. Khan doesn’t even know who to mourn.)

He’s certain they must be somewhere on the compound. Section 31 would never risk exposing a secret such as this by sending the cryotubes across space. What’s more, Marcus would never allow them out of his grasp. They are the power he holds over Khan, the leverage he can use to extort Khan’s knowledge and superior abilities.

And now, it appears, his body.

So Khan will go. He will report to Marcus’s quarters tonight and endure whatever the admiral has in store for him. He will clench his teeth and bide his time.

And he will continue searching, for as long as it takes, until he and his family is free once more.

*~*~*

It’s so much harder to take than Khan could have imagined.

He is lying on his back on Marcus’s bed, spread-eagled, naked, exposed. He knows he could snap Marcus’s neck in a matter of seconds; there are no restraints, nothing to rein in his strength and reflexes.

Nothing but the promise of death dangling over his head like the proverbial sword of Damocles.

Khan tries to distract himself by conjuring up the blueprints of Io’s dorsal section. He only found out about it last night. It looks like there’s a secret compartment under one of the cargo bays that might just be big enough to hide his cryotubes.

But every time Khan starts imagining the layout, Marcus seems to notice his thoughts are drifting and yanks his hair or pinches his nipples, any stimulus powerful enough to bring Khan back to the present. He is not allowed to escape.

The smell of sex is heavy in the air. Marcus is straddling him, rubbing his crotch against Khan’s stomach. His cock is fully erect now, its head weeping precome, twitching every so often when the friction heightens Marcus’s arousal.

Khan feels sick to his stomach. His breathing is shallow and he does his best to shut off his senses even though Marcus keeps forcing him to focus.

If only Marcus would get on with it. Khan knows what he’s in for, has seen the possessive lust in the Alpha’s eyes ever since they first met and Marcus realized he’d woken up an Omega. It’s only a matter of time before Marcus claims him. Khan doesn’t have to be in heat for an Alpha to enjoy fucking him.

But Marcus takes his time.

A hand reaches out to touch his cheek and Khan hisses at the contact. He scolds himself immediately, for the answer he gets is a widening of the admiral’s triumphant grin. Oh, what Khan wouldn’t give to be able to wipe that smirk off his face right here, right now, but he must be patient.

A thumb traces his lower lip, a mock caress that’s insulting in its tenderness. Then Marcus pushes the finger into Khan’s mouth, forcing him to unclench his teeth.

“Suck it. Make it good,” the admiral commands from above. Khan obeys, closing his eyes to block out the rest of Marcus as much as he is able to, only to get his cheek slapped in response.

“Eyes on me.”

Khan wills himself to follow the instruction, although he knows there’s no disguising the hatred in his eyes. To Marcus, this is apparently just another turn-on. He rolls his hips, humping Khan’s stomach to the rhythm of the suction on his thumb.

He comes a surprisingly short time later, spilling his seed all over Khan’s chest, moaning loudly. The sticky mess feels alien on Khan’s skin; it makes him feel soiled, tainted. What a cliché he has become.

Marcus is still straddling him, looking down at Khan in a post-orgasmic haze. “You’re a work of art,” he says, tracing two fingers through the puddle on Khan’s chest.

Khan is tempted to agree but reins in his sarcasm. Marcus lifts his fingers now coated with his seed and presses them to Khan’s lips.

“Open up.”

Khan knows what Marcus wants from him, but he’ll be damned to oblige without being ordered to. The expected command comes a few seconds later.

“Lick them clean.”

Khan does. He licks and swallows and tastes come on his tongue as Marcus feeds him helping after helping. It’s all he can do to fight off the nausea.

Khan’s chest is almost clean when Marcus finally lets up.

“Get dressed and get out of here,” he says dismissively, walking towards the bathroom, not sparing Khan another glance.

Khan doesn’t need telling twice. He gets off the bed in one fluid motion and pulls his uniform shirt over a chest that is still sticky and starting to itch. Boots, pants, and he’s out of Marcus’s quarters before he even hears the shower being turned on.

Only in the darkness of his room does he allow himself to slump onto the floor and drive his fist against the wall until his knuckles start bleeding.

*~*~*

Khan locates the _Botany Bay_ on the same day Marcus fucks his mouth for the first time. It’s in a remote hangar in the dorsal section, inconspicuously marked “under construction”, but Khan would recognize the shape anywhere.

The triumph he feels is sprinkled with schadenfreude, a vicious glee at having outwitted Marcus and his minions. That’s what you get for messing with a superior mind. Khan Noonien Singh will not be thwarted, in _any_ century.

His elation dwindles once he realizes that the cryotubes aren’t stored on the _Botany Bay_ anymore. Khan didn’t really expect them to be, but the disappointment still feels like a blow to the gut.

They can’t be far though. He’s on their trail. All Khan needs is a little more time and patience and he’ll locate his people and be able to wake them up.

And then these Starfleet wimps won’t know what hit them.

When Marcus’s message comes in, Khan nearly jumps out of his skin. His first thought is that Marcus was on to him, that he somehow caught him out covertly scanning the dorsal section. Then Khan reads the message and his heart rate slows. It’s replaced by a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“My quarters. 12:00.”

He’s never been called to Marcus’s quarters this early in the day. In the week (six days, fourteen hours) since their new “arrangement” began, Khan has been ordered to tend to the admiral’s needs twice more; each encounter is etched starkly on Khan’s augmented memory. He quickly learned to compartmentalize, to shut away the portion of his brain that stores the images and odors and noises, the suffocating sensation of Marcus’s skin on his. But up until now, he has never been called in during work hours.

For some reason, this deviation from routine makes Khan nervous. He reminds himself that he is better than this, that he was designed to overcome such weak human emotions, but he can’t quite shake the feeling of foreboding as he makes his way to the admiral’s quarters.

Marcus is waiting for him in an armchair next to the window providing a breathtaking view of Jupiter against the blackness of space. For an instant, Khan can’t suppress the longing he feels when he stares at the vast expanse, stars twinkling in the distance, calling out for him to –

Marcus clears his throat and Khan is instantly transported back to the present. He’s getting sloppy, letting his mind roam with his enemy so close by. He needs to have his wits about him if he is to outsmart Marcus and make his escape.

“Strip,” comes the expected order. Khan has learned not to dwell on what he’s doing while he is getting rid of his clothes. He folds them neatly on a nearby table.

Marcus is studying him, devouring him with his eyes, one hand already buried in the folds of his bathrobe. Khan forces himself to stand straight and stare blankly ahead.

“Brace yourself against the wall. Spread your legs.”

Khan doesn’t hesitate, just walks over to a strip of wall next to the bathroom door and gets into position. He takes a deep breath to calm his racing heart but can’t suppress a flinch when Marcus steps up behind him and presses his now-naked body against Khan’s. Marcus chuckles.

“Why so skittish today, John? You can’t possibly know that I have something special planned for you, can you?”

A finger finds its way between his ass cheeks and slithers along the crack until it reaches Khan’s hole. It takes all of Khan’s willpower not to flinch again. He clenches his teeth as the finger circles the puckered skin and suddenly, without warning, breaches him.

Khan can feel his muscles contract at the intrusion, which only causes Marcus to chuckle louder. He wriggles his finger inside Khan, probing and stretching the entrance. It _hurts_ , unprepared as Khan is, but worse than the pain is the violation, the humiliation of having to allow Marcus to do this without breaking him in half for daring to put his hands on him.

No Alpha of his crew would ever have dreamed of touching an Omega without his or her consent. Every augment knows that it is the Omegas who hold the true power, for they are the life-givers; it is the Alphas’ task to respect and cherish them for what they are. Marcus’s aberrant behavior is yet more proof why augments are so much _better_ than humans.

All these thoughts don’t prevent Marcus from adding another finger, eliciting an involuntary grunt of pain from Khan.

“You’ll be begging for my cock soon enough,” Marcus purrs in his ear, pushing his fingers into Khan’s hole and drawing them out again, again and again. “This is just the beginning.”

He aligns his hips with Khan’s ass, his hard-on bumping against the tender skin. Khan can feel wetness leaking from the tip and braces himself for what he is sure must come next.

But instead of the shove of an Alpha’s cock, the pain of being breached dry, Khan can feel Marcus grabbing hold of his cheeks and spreading them apart. Marcus’s weeping cock traces Khan’s crack the way his finger did earlier, smearing precome all over the sensitive skin. Khan’s hole twitches at the contact as though trying to curl in on itself.

“I won’t fuck you until you ask me to,” Marcus whispers. “Remember that. You’ll have to _beg_ me to take you.”

 _Never!_ is Khan’s immediate thought and he almost shouts it out loud. He will never submit to this sorry excuse for a human being, whose sole power over him lies in the cunning exploitation of Khan’s weak spot. If his family wasn’t captive… If the cryotubes weren’t out of his reach…he would have torn Marcus to pieces a long time ago.

Marcus is grinding his cock against Khan’s ass, moaning obscenely at the friction. Khan grits his teeth when a wandering hand fists a few strands of his hair and _pulls_.

“On your knees,” Marcus hisses into his ear, still rocking his hips against Khan’s ass. “That’s where you belong, kneeling at my feet. Serving your master.”

There’s no point in resisting, so Khan sinks to his knees with as much grace as possible. As soon as he is in position, Marcus steers Khan’s head towards his cock and forces Khan’s mouth open with an iron grip on his jaw.

Khan doesn’t even have time to draw a proper breath before Marcus’s cock hits the back of his throat and makes him gag. Marcus doesn’t let up and starts fucking his mouth, pulling out and slamming back in, forcing his rock-hard cock down Khan’s throat despite his choked moans of protest. 

Khan feels like he’s suffocating. Bile is rising in his throat and is making it even harder to breathe, to swallow around the thick cock in his mouth. Coarse hair tickles his nose and there’s a sickening slap every time Marcus’s balls hit skin.

Khan’s eyes are starting to water and he _hates_ himself for it. But he has to take it, he just _has_ to, the alternative is unthinkable –

“That’s it,” Marcus leers from above. “Take it. Take my cock like the whore you really are. You were made to serve us, not the other way round. I’m here to teach you that lesson.”

Khan gags again and futilely fights the hold on his hair, anything to get some air into his lungs, but Marcus won’t let up. If anything, his thrusts are getting faster and harder until tears are spilling down Khan’s cheeks and saliva is trickling down his chin. He has never felt this close to breaking.

A lifetime later, Marcus comes with a shout, his seed hitting the roof of Khan’s mouth, and Khan knows without being prompted that he’d better not spill any of it. He swallows hard, fighting to block out the smells and the taste and the constant pressure of Marcus’s hands holding him down.

Then it’s over. Marcus withdraws his wilting cock, rubbing it clean against Khan’s cheek. Khan winces, but doesn’t dare look up as Marcus steps away and gets dressed. He is still panting and has to concentrate hard not to throw up on Marcus’s carpet.

“Get back to work.” The command is curt, the heat of arousal traded in for the cold, calculating demeanor of a Starfleet admiral.

Khan shivers with relief when he hears Marcus walking towards the door. Just before he reaches it, however, Marcus turns back with a smirk and says: “Be back here tonight. The usual time.”

Khan’s stomach plummets. He swallows hard and looks up only to see Marcus hovering in the doorway, waiting for a response, his eyes glistening.

“Yes, sir,” Khan grits out, silently vowing to one day scatter the pieces of Marcus’s corpse across the galaxy.

When the _swoosh_ of the door indicates that Marcus has finally left the room, Khan allows his shoulders to slump and his hands to wipe the traitorous tears from his face. Then he stumbles into the bathroom to throw up.

*~*~*

Marcus still hasn’t fucked him yet and Khan can’t figure out why. He knows it’s coming and it does nothing for his nerves to know that the admiral is holding back, that he still hasn’t unleashed the greatest weapon in his arsenal. It’s like Marcus is feeding him up for the slaughter, playing mind games with him – and however hard Khan tries to shield himself against them, they are _working_.

He’s so distracted by his apprehension that he doesn’t recognize the early symptoms for what they are.

Khan wakes up one morning to his sheets drenched in sweat. He quickly attributes it to the nightmares he has been prone to having ever since Marcus initiated their sick little trysts, and changes the sheets without sparing the matter another thought.

By lunch time he is experiencing the first headache of his life. He can’t really explain it. An augment’s body does not _do_ headaches, it’s an impairment restricted to inferior beings. But the pain only gets worse as the day progresses, so much worse, that by late afternoon Khan has to squint to read the display on his console because of the way his vision is swimming.

When he gets up, he is hit by a wave of dizziness and quickly grabs the back of his chair to steady himself. That’s when he feels it: wetness between his thighs, the tell-tale trickle of fluid that can only mean one thing. He is going into heat.

It can’t be. It’s not possible. He has seen his medical records, he has read the opinion of Io’s chief medical officer. There’s no way his body is able go into heat after two centuries of cryogenic sleep. It defies all laws of biology, even that of an augment’s.

Yet the discomfort he feels, the subtle itch beneath his skin that he knows is going to evolve into full-blown _need_ in a matter of hours…

It _can’t_ be.

He knows there’s no denying it, but that doesn’t stop Khan from trying. He works through the pain, the dizziness, and the growing turmoil in his groin, desperately ignoring the signals his body keeps sending him.

By 19:00, his hands won’t stop shaking and he has to keep himself from storming into the nearest bathroom to finger himself. He feels empty and oh-so-needing to be filled, an overwhelming urge that eats away at the vestiges of his self-control.  

What the hell is he supposed to do now?

The absence of Marcus or any kind of message from him is telling. Usually the admiral comes by at least once a day to harass him with suggestive looks or lecherous double-entendres. Today Khan hasn’t seen hide nor hair of him.

He is sure his scent has been transmitting his desire to be mated for hours, but none of the Betas in the room seems to have cottoned on to his condition. Ensign Hall, the only other Omega on Io, hasn’t been in all day. She would have noticed, of course, would probably have thrown him worried looks and suggested he better take the next couple of days off. She would have glanced at him in sympathy and a misguided sense of kinship until Khan told her to shove the hell off.

But Ensign Hall isn’t here.

This must be Marcus’s doing. He must have sent Hall away, he must have…doped or poisoned Khan with something that would trigger a heat. Khan wouldn’t have thought it possible, but apparently this century is equipped with the kind of drugs that can alter even an augment’s biochemical reactions.

An hour later, Khan gives up all pretense of being able to work and powers down his console for the night. His knees are wobbly and he is acutely aware of the sweat gathering at the back of his neck. He rubs at it gingerly, wincing when the motion sends another spike of pain through his skull.

He half-expects Marcus to be there when he stumbles back to his quarters, but the room is mercifully empty. Khan’s legs are barely holding him up anymore, so he collapses onto the bed, reaches into his pants, and grabs hold of his cock, desperate for friction.

If this was then, he would have Joaquin and Kati to help him through the worst of it. They would always take him together, inseparable, the two of them, lovers from the start, in spite of them both being Alphas. Kati would cradle Khan’s head in her lap and let him eat her out while Joaquin pounded into him from behind until his knot formed. The three of them would stay linked for hours, secure in the knowledge that the rest of the family had their backs, that they would deal with any disruption that arose outside of their little haven.

The lovemaking between an Alpha and an Omega had always been a sacred act to the augments; they knew that they depended on each other for survival and cherished their differences. No one would ever have valued Khan less because of his Omega status. They weren’t animals. They weren’t _humans_.

Khan lets out a weak moan as he curls into a fetal position, the fire in his blood causing his muscles to spasm. He knows he has no choice but to allow the wave to take him.

*~*~*

Khan can’t tell how much time has passed when he comes to again, he only knows that he is leaking onto the sheets and that his whole body is covered in sweat. He needs to get these clothes off. His tongue feels like it’s glued to the roof of his mouth.

He actually topples over when his feet hit the ground, his shaking legs unable to support his weight any longer. He is a mess. The desire to be fucked is worse than ever, he needs… He just _needs_.

He takes a long shower that doesn’t alleviate his symptoms in the slightest. He fucks himself with his fingers, then moves on to a bottle of shaving gel. It’s too big for his hole and it hurts, but he’s way past caring.

Nothing helps. Only an Alpha’s cock will put an end to his heat and prevent him from burning up.

Abandoning the shower, Khan lets himself sink against the tiles of the bathroom wall, towel wrapped around his shoulders like a child needing protection. He is pathetic like this. He should be stronger… He should be powerful enough to endure this. To _survive_ this.

He knows he’s not. No Omega could be, augment or not. It’s nature taking its toll.

Khan thinks of his crew, seventy-two of them still alive and asleep somewhere on this compound. Out of his reach for now, yet still close enough for them to be saved. Every single one of his friends put their trust in him when they boarded his ship. He owes them… He owes them to make this right.

Marcus’s words from weeks ago are ringing in his ears, over and over again. _Then we will see how far you are really willing to go to save your crew_ …

Khan’s heart clenches. There isn’t much time left to make a decision. He knows he’s on the verge of becoming delirious; in a few hours he won’t be able to form a coherent sentence anymore.

The thought of what he is about to do, of what he _must_ do to save his family, has him shaking so hard that his teeth start chattering. He bites into his fist to stifle the sob that’s threatening to break out of him. His brilliant mind is racing to find another way, weighing the options to come up with a different solution, but his choices are so limited in this century that he might as well be a rat trying to find an alternative route out of a maze with only one exit.

Khan shudders, then resolutely grabs the edge of the sink and hauls himself to his feet. The towel glides off his shoulders, but he doesn’t bother picking it up. It won’t matter once he is back in Marcus’s clutches.

His hand hovers over the comm button right next to the door. Khan lets his forehead bump against the cool surface of the wall and breathes deeply, in and out. He allows himself exactly ten seconds before he pulls himself together and pushes the button.

“Yes?” Marcus answers through the comm, and Khan can practically see him smirking.

“I…” Khan begins but has to stop to clear his throat. It’s dry as chalk. “I need –”

“What do you need, _John_?” Marcus asks, not bothering to hide the glee in his voice.

Khan falters for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut.

_You’re no good to them dead._

His cheeks are burning with shame when he’s finally able to speak again.

“I need you…to fuck me. Please.”

*~*~*

 

The atmosphere in the room is stifling. Marcus’s Alpha pheromones are wafting through the air, engulfing him, making Khan feel like he’s suffocating. He’s lying on Marcus’s enormous bed face first, head buried in a pillow, and he can’t _breathe_.

Marcus is sheathed balls-deep inside him, his cock making squelching noises whenever he moves.

“You are so wet. So ready for me,” Marcus croons, and it’s all Khan can do not do lash out, to wring Marcus’s neck and snuff out his life, consequences be damned.

Instead he holds still. Lets the admiral pound into him as his thrusts pick up speed, the passage made easier by Khan’s body’s natural lubricant.

It feels good, being filled like this. It eases the itch, the bone-deep need, it drives away the insanity of his heat.

Khan has never hated himself more.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You like what I’m doing to you, slut,” Marcus taunts him. He is panting, but his thrusts are steady. He grabs Khan’s hips and changes the angle and suddenly, Khan is hit by a jolt of pleasure so strong that it forces a moan out of him.

“I knew it. All those protests and diversionary tactics when in reality, you’ve wanted this all along. Wanted me to give it to you good.”

Marcus reaches around Khan’s hips and wraps a hand around his cock. He lets his thumb glide over the head and chuckles when Khan’s whole body jerks in response.

“Oh yes. That’s it, my little whore. Show me how much you want it.”

Khan feels helpless against the mounting arousal in his groin. Marcus continues to stroke his cock, expertly stimulating it while hitting his prostate with every thrust. Khan tries to hold back, tries to force his body not to give itself away, but he can’t prevent his arousal from building up. It doesn’t take more than a couple of minutes and he’s done for, his orgasm coursing through him like a tidal wave. Khan comes all over Marcus’s hand, a stifled cry dying in his throat as he rides out the aftershocks.

Marcus takes his soiled hand away from Khan’s cock and yanks his head back so hard that Khan is almost bent in half. Marcus’s thrusts are getting more erratic and he pounds into Khan with everything he’s got, holding nothing back, and comes with a shout at the top of his lungs.

Khan scowls at the feeling of Marcus’s seed adding to the wetness in his passage. He hopes against hope that Marcus will just draw out, that he has been satisfied to the point where he will leave Khan to deal with the rest of his heat himself.

But no such luck. Marcus’s knot is already swelling at the base of his cock and Khan braces himself for the onslaught. He knows he is going to have to relax or this will hurt, even with Marcus’s inferior knot, but he can’t bring his body to comply. Every cell in him is screaming to get rid of the intruding organ, to kill the man suffocating him with his mere presence –

And then Marcus thrusts forward and breaches Khan’s entrance, ramming into him as though there was no barrier to overcome, and Khan cries out at the sudden pain, all restraint abandoned. Marcus doesn’t let up, he grabs Khan’s shoulders for leverage and ruts into him until Khan has taken his whole knot, until they are both inextricably linked.

Khan is sure he’s bleeding, he must be if the pain spiking through him is any indication. Marcus’s teeth are at Khan’s throat, biting into his flesh, yet not deep enough to initiate a bonding. Khan is absurdly grateful that he is spared this at least. Marcus continues to sink his teeth into Khan’s skin, marking him, scratching his back with his fingernails. Khan knows the wounds will be gone in the morning, but that doesn’t make the act any less revolting.

He allows his thoughts to drift to a place out of time, imagines Joaquin or Otto on top of him instead of the sickening weight of the admiral, and for once Marcus doesn’t seem to notice his escape. Khan’s mind floats away on the memories of happier times, his only refuge in the nightmare that has become his existence.

Marcus comes twice more in the time they are knotted and Khan does his best to fight off the nausea, his disgust at being pumped full with the admiral’s seed. He has lost track of time, can’t tell if they’ve been in here for hours or days already, but at one point, it’s finally over. Marcus’s knot has gone down and he withdraws, letting out a satisfied groan and slapping Khan’s ass for good measure.

“We have to do this again some time.” The derision in his voice is unmistakable.

Khan slowly regains the feeling in his limbs. His whole body is aching and the space between his cheeks feels like it has been torn to shreds. He winces when he moves and is not surprised to find a smattering of blood on the sheets where he has just been lying.

Khan sits up gingerly, only to detect that the admiral has long since left the room. He doesn’t bother taking a shower, just picks up his clothes and makes his escape, barely glancing back at the stars twinkling mockingly at him from outside the window.

He finds out where his crew is kept the next day.

*~*~*

Days turn into weeks, which turn into months, and Khan is still no closer to finding a solution. He keeps a constant watch on his people, making sure that Marcus is indeed leaving them alone in exchange for his cooperation, and so far, the admiral seems to be playing by the rules. That doesn’t mean that it’s going to stay this way forever though. Khan knows that his family is far from safe.

Marcus keeps throwing project after project at him, demanding weapons and shield designs and everything from photon grenades to a new phaser array for his pride and joy, the _USS Vengeance_.

Khan has had his eye on the ship for a while now. It’s moored in docking bay 3, a warship designed for battle, all bulk and no grace. It’s faster than any other vessel Starfleet’s got, and Khan has a sneaking suspicion that Federation officials wouldn’t be too pleased if they knew what Marcus was concocting behind their backs.

Between working on the _Vengeance_ and Marcus’s nocturnal visits, Khan barely has time to look into ways for how he can smuggle himself and his family out of Io. The obvious answer would be to steal a ship and simply beam the cryotubes on board before making his escape, but security is tight on the spacedock and Khan would have to override every contingency protocol in existence before he could even get a foot out of the door. The risk of losing any of his cryotubes in the ensuing battle is too great. He has to come up with a safer solution, one that will guarantee that they are all going to make it out of this alive.

In the meantime, Khan has had to endure two more heats, two more endless nights with the admiral rutting into him, knotting him, claiming his body. Forcing him to come, even though Khan desperately tried to resist, cursing his own weakness. But Khan is nothing if not resilient. He has fought a war, he has built an empire, he can handle this.

He knows how Marcus initiates his heats now. It always happens after his physical exams and the so-called “adjustment injections” they administer to him every other month. Some of these injections must be laced with whatever triggers the abnormal biochemical reaction in his body.

There is nothing Khan can do to prevent it though. Resistance to the procedures would be considered non-compliance, which would leave him open to punishment from Marcus. So Khan does all he can to push the memories of these incidents to the remotest corners of his mind and concentrates instead on getting the hell out of this place, preferably leaving a few dead bodies behind.

Khan distantly notes that there seems to be something missing inside of him, that there used to be a spark where now he can barely feel his body anymore. All he is aware of these days is his ever-growing hatred of Marcus, the need for revenge a savage rage that is constantly simmering just beneath his skin.

If the loss of his soul is the price that has to be paid though, then Khan will gladly pay it. It’s his family’s freedom he’s buying with it, after all. So he soldiers on and draws up schematics and pretends not to notice the bite marks fading on his skin in the mornings.

It all falls apart when Khan experiences the first symptoms of pregnancy.

*~*~*

Khan knows the signs. He may not have been through it himself, always having been on contraceptives (he _was_ the ruler of a quarter of Earth before their self-imposed exile, there was no time for child-bearing, not yet), but he knows the symptoms all too well: the tenderness in his pecs, the morning sickness, the constant fatigue. He is with child − _Marcus’s_ child.

The discovery sends a wave of revulsion through Khan. He thought he was safe, he thought the falseness of his heats would prevent him from being able to conceive. It turns out that was nothing more than an illusion. Now Marcus is taking over his body from the inside as well as the outside.

Disgust wells up in him at the thought and with it, a fresh surge of panic. Marcus will never allow him to keep the child, even if Khan wanted to. A pregnancy is evidence, living proof of what Marcus has done to Khan, of what he’s still doing to him. Khan knows Starfleet regulations well enough by now to be certain that the admiral would be court-martialed for his transgressions if they ever came out.

But they won’t. Marcus will see to that, will play his superiors as well as he has been playing Khan all along. So Khan has to take care of it himself before Marcus finds out. The admiral is not above killing him to save his own hide. And then where would his family be?

Khan knows he won’t be able to hide his conditions from the doctors for long. Marcus schedules his exams at irregular intervals, so Khan can never predict them. The minute one of the medical officers draws a blood sample, it’s over.

What’s more, Khan suspects he is being watched 24/7. His frequent trips to the bathroom won’t go unnoticed, and just because he hasn’t found the cameras installed in his quarters doesn’t mean that they are not there.

He has to act _now_.

There are really only two options: get rid of the unwanted child growing inside of him – or make his escape. As Khan has been futilely searching for a way to get off Io for months now, that leaves him with the first option.

But how is he going to get rid of the fetus without help, and without anyone finding out about it?

*~*~*

Turns out the idea of deliberately killing the child inside his body and doing it are two very different things. Khan knows he’s stalling, but he can’t help it. After all the abuse he has suffered, somehow the thought of causing himself even more harm just seems too much to take.

He finds himself searching for a loophole, a third option, to delay the inevitable. It’s not that he wants to keep the child; the thought of bearing Marcus’s offspring is revolting to him. But there has to be a better way to get rid of the fetus than shoving a rod up his backside until he bleeds from it.

At the same time, Khan latches onto the idea of using the torpedoes he created as a hiding place for his cryotubes, a risky notion at best, insane to actually want to implement it. Yet the idea takes hold of him and won’t let go.

Days have gone by and still Khan has not acted. He wakes up every morning to an upset stomach and spends the first half hour bent over the toilet. Then he goes to work as though nothing has happened, clenches his teeth whenever Marcus shows up, sucks his cock at night, and does what he is told in silence.

His secret plan is taking form. It shouldn’t be too hard to beam his people into the torpedoes as long as there’s enough space for the cryotubes. All he has to do is make a few modifications to the interior design and they’ll be good to go.

The anticipation of victory sends a thrill of excitement through Khan. Why he hasn’t thought of this before he has no idea, but what’s important now is that it’s working and that he’s going to be able to bring this about. In a few days’ time, Marcus and his sick games will be nothing but a memory.

*~*~*

Marcus’s summons catches him completely unawares.

Khan is just about to head over to the cargo hold to check out the latest shipment for some much-needed components when a signal on his console tells him that he has an incoming message. It’s a text, three innocuous little words:

**My office. Now.**

Khan instantly knows that something is wrong. Marcus never texts when he can call, he enjoys humiliating Khan in person too much. Could it be that Marcus has found out about his plans for the torpedoes? Did Khan hit a tripwire while he was covertly preparing to beam his people out of their hiding place?

His hands are shaking when he powers down his console and heads for the exit, heart hammering in his chest. Captain Leto for once is too occupied to notice his departure.

Khan hesitates when he arrives in front of Marcus’s office. He wishes the door was transparent, wishes he had some inkling of what was waiting for him on the other side. His palms have started to sweat. _Pathetic_. He quickly rubs them dry against his pants.

When he enters the office, he finds that Marcus is not alone. There’s a security guard standing behind him, a burly beefcake with a detached, almost bored look on his face. Marcus himself is sitting in the chair behind his desk, his back ramrod straight, eyes piercing into Khan’s.

Khan schools his features to show nothing but a sort of vague bewilderment as he approaches the desk and stops in front of it, hands clasped behind his back. He is not invited to sit.

Minutes trickle away in silence. Marcus continues to stare at him, appraising him, daring him to look away. It takes all of Khan’s willpower to hold the eye contact and prevent his apprehension from showing on his face.

“When were you going to tell me?”

Marcus’s voice cuts through the room like a knife. Khan’s not sure what to make of the question. It sounds as if Marcus is trying to get him to incriminate himself. A ruse then. Khan decides to go with _mildly confused_.

“I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

Marcus nods absently as though he had expected an answer like this, his eyes never leaving Khan’s face.

“You know what I should do? I should simply shut off the power to the cryotubes. All of them. They are a waste of space and energy anyway. We could even make a bet out of it.” He looks over his shoulder at the security guard. “What do you think, Herman? How long would it take for someone in cryogenic sleep to die in case of a systems failure? An hour? A day? Two days?”

Marcus smirks at Khan, no doubt able to read the fear on his face. It has been like this from Day One. One foolish slip of the tongue and Khan’s biggest weakness was exposed, his Achilles heel that Marcus has taken pleasure in targeting.

“If you told me what I did wrong, sir, then maybe I –”

“I’m not interested in your excuses, John. They leave a bitter aftertaste.”

Marcus smacks his lips as if to emphasize his point. His fingers are trailing along something on his desk that Khan hasn’t noticed before. It looks like some kind of baton, something police officers from his own time would carry with them when they went on patrol. The object looks plain enough, but for some reason, the sight still sends a shiver of dread down Khan’s spine.

His throat has gone dry. He has no idea how to respond to the situation. There are no clues as to what Marcus thinks he has found out about him.

“I’m going to make this easy for you, John,” Marcus continues, still eerily calm in spite of the venom in his words. “You are going to take your punishment, here, in this room. You are not going to breathe a word of this to anyone. And then, if all goes well, we need never speak of it again and your family will live to sleep another day.”

The baby then. Marcus must have found out about the pregnancy. If he knew about the torpedoes, neither he nor his family would make it out of this alive. Khan allows himself a brief moment of relief.

At a sign from Marcus, the security guard – Herman – walks around him and locks the door behind Khan. The tightness in Khan’s throat is getting more pronounced. He is trapped, at the mercy of two humans who don’t give a fuck about proper procedure.

Marcus rises from his chair and walks around the desk, the baton now in his right hand.

“I thought for a long time about how I was going to do this,” Marcus says, circling him. “I could have just killed you, you know, but then, where would humanity be in this time of need? No, you are too valuable to me, my little Omega. Too precious a tool to simply throw away.”

Khan shudders as the tip of the baton brushes his lower back.

“But you need to be taught a lesson. Secretiveness like this cannot be condoned. Herman agrees with me, don’t you, Herman?”

The security guard smirks at Marcus, drawing a baton of his own from somewhere. It’s black like Marcus’s and innocent looking, but it makes the hair at the back of Khan’s neck stand on end.

The first blow startles him even though he was prepared for it. It’s aimed at his lower abdomen and Khan flinches at the impact. The blow is not nearly enough to make him stumble, but the thought of just standing there and _taking_ it, of letting these two bastards beat him to a pulp, is more than he can bear.

Khan wills his hands into fists to prevent himself from retaliating as another blow lands on his back, Marcus this time. From then on, he’s fair game to them. Blow after blow is pelting down on him, no rhythm to it, no elegance. Khan wonders what prompted Marcus to choose this kind of punishment. He must know that even with their combined strength, the two humans will barely be able to make a dent in his armor.

He has barely finished the thought when suddenly, one of the batons fires off an electric shock so powerful that Khan cries out in pain. His whole body is trembling and for a few agonizing seconds, it feels as if his heart has stopped. Then another shock hits his stomach and Khan doubles over, knees giving way as he collapses to the ground.

The blows don’t stop and neither do the charges. Shock after shock courses through Khan’s body, making him convulse, cry out, and writhe on the floor in a vain effort to protect himself. He knows he’s screaming, but he can’t help it. A few times he feels close to passing out, stars dancing in front of his eyes, but the blessed darkness escapes him. He loses track of time, he can’t think anymore against the canvas of red hot _painpainpain._ He’s retching and pissing himself, his body out of his control…

At some point, Khan registers that the blows have stopped. Everything hurts, but at least his heart is still beating, however jittery. He lifts his head to find that the room is empty. Marcus left him here alone to…what? He coughs and tastes blood in his mouth.

That’s when he feels it: a cramping pain in his lower belly and wetness trickling down between his thighs, but this time, it’s not the lubricant he associates with heat. It’s thick and cloggy and Khan feels a sudden loss over something he didn’t even know he cared for.

It’s the last thing he’s aware of before he blacks out.

 


	3. Part Three (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really sorry this took so long − thank you all for your patience! FYI: I’ve decided to split Part Three into ~~four~~ five chapters, that’s way the chapter count has gone up. Just in case you're wondering. 
> 
> Many thanks to [JayEz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JayEz/pseuds/JayEz) and [NurseDarry](http://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/pseuds/NurseDarry) for being the best betas imaginable.
> 
> I’m shamelessly borrowing plot ideas, minor characters, and dialogue lines from _Star Trek III – The Search for Spock_. I regret nothing. ;) 
> 
> Last but not least, many thanks to all of you who have shown support for this story in the form of Kudos, Comments, Bookmarks, etc. It’s what’s keeping me going!

It has been two days and Jim knows he can’t delay the inevitable any longer.

He has tried to wrap his mind around it; he has struggled to come to terms with how the head of Starfleet, a man he once respected, could have done such a despicable thing as raping another person, as taking advantage of an Omega in the most repulsive way imaginable.

He’s still at a loss to explain it.

The walk from the bridge to the brig has never felt this long. Jim declined Spock’s earlier offer to accompany him, well as it was meant. He told Spock everything, each one of Bones’ deductions. He couldn’t have bottled it all up even if he had wanted to.

To Jim’s horror, the Vulcan’s response was almost as emotional as his own had been. Jim had counted on Spock’s logical mind, his ability to focus, to straighten out the questions and images riding rollercoasters in Jim’s head, but no such luck. Spock had simply stared into space, fingers steepled under his chin, and announced in a voice that barely hid his rage that Marcus had likely gotten exactly what he deserved.

Jim’s throat feels tight as he enters the large holding area and throws a distracted “at ease” at the officer on duty − Lieutenant Munroe… Munson? Mundon? He can never keep their names straight.

“You’re relieved. Get yourself a cup of coffee or something,” Jim tells the lieutenant with a smile and watches her face lighten up. “Make sure we are not disturbed.” The lieutenant nods, clearly eager for the opportunity to stretch her legs, and heads for the exit.

Jim takes a deep breath. The room is silent now, empty except for the prisoner in the cell opposite. Khan appears not to have noticed him. He sits on the cot like he did when Jim and Spock came to talk to him only days ago, the time Khan told them about his crew and asked Jim if there was anything he wouldn’t do for his family.

Now that Jim knows what lengths Khan has actually gone to in order to protect his own, he can’t help but feel awed by the man in front of him.

Jim keeps wondering if he would have been able to do the same if Marcus had gotten to him instead of Khan. Could he have taken the abuse, the beatings, and the humiliation like Khan must have done? Would he still be able to sit there, proud and defiant, with his chin up and his head held high?

Khan only acknowledges him once Jim is standing right in front of his cell. He lifts an eyebrow in a way that is vaguely reminiscent of Spock’s.

“Captain.”

“Khan.”

Now that he is here, Jim has no idea what to say. He has gone over and over it in his head, but nothing seems to fit the delicacy of the issue he is about to raise. _I’m sorry this happened to you_ sounds poor and inadequate, even to his own ears. So does _Starfleet will recompense you for Marcus’s wrong-doings_. How the hell did one make up for something like this?

Khan is watching him out of reptilian-like eyes, alert and inscrutable. Jim clears his throat and opts for stating facts as a conversation starter.

“The _Enterprise_ will be ready to move within the day. We are bound for Earth’s Spacedock. Once there, you will be transferred to the proper authorities.”

Khan nods, his face shuttered. Jim waits for a reply. When he realizes he won’t get one, he ploughs on.

“You’ll be brought to trial for the attack on Starfleet Headquarters and the murder of Admiral Marcus.”

His voice quivers slightly at the final words, but if Khan notices, he doesn’t show it. His face betrays no visible reaction and he hasn’t moved an inch since Jim walked in.

“Khan, do you understand me? These are very serious accusations. There’s a good chance you’ll be spending the rest of your life in prison.”

For some reason, the thought of Khan locked up in a Federation penal colony makes Jim’s stomach clench uncomfortably. How would Khan even survive his heats? There were so few Alphas left these days, it would be one hell of a coincidence if one was close by wherever Khan was going to be held.

The instinct to protect is back full force, to shelter the Omega from the storms ahead of him. Jim has to take a deep breath to fight down the intrusive urge.

“What’s going to happen to my crew?” Khan asks abruptly, staring straight at Jim.

“I… I don’t know. The Council is going to decide.”

“You promised me that they would be safe.”

Jim nods. “I did. And they will be. You have my word. I will do everything in my power to make sure of it.”

Khan scans his face for what Jim can only assume are signs of insincerity. He must be satisfied with what he finds, for when he turns away, some of the tension leaves his body – the first sign of emotion Jim has noticed on Khan since their conversation started.

“You have to think about yourself now,” Jim says. “You have to make sure your side of the story is heard. There are mitigating circumstances. No jury will condemn you to a maximum penalty once they hear about what you had to go through.”

Khan’s eyes are narrowing. “Which is what exactly?” His voice has taken on a dangerous quality and Jim is thrown back for a minute.

“Well…the things Admiral Marcus did to you –“

With a snarl Khan rises from the cot and plants himself in front of Jim. “And what would you know about that?”

Jim blushes and tries not to stumble over his words. “We – Dr. McCoy… We found out about the pregnancy.”

Khan has gone so still that for a moment it looks like he has been sculpted. When he speaks again, his voice is dripping with contempt.

“And I’m guessing you’ve drawn any number of conclusions from that little discovery? Like what? That I seduced Marcus and begged him to fuck me? That this was all some clever ploy to make him amenable to me? To blackmail him with his spawn once he managed to knock me up?”

Jim stares at Khan in disbelief. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind before.

“No! That’s not what I meant at all. We…we know that Marcus forced you. We know your heat must have been induced. There is no way…you couldn’t have wanted this.”

“Oh, couldn’t I?” Khan steps so close to the force field that Jim would be able to feel Khan’s breath on his face if it wasn’t there. “You have seen what I’m capable of. You have watched me fight and kill. Tell me, Captain – do you seriously believe I would ever allow anyone to touch me against my explicit wishes?”

“You would if there were lives at stake, lives of people you care about,” Jim says quietly.

For a moment, Khan seems stunned into silence. His eyes widen and he actually takes a step away from Jim. But just as soon as it surfaced, the wordless alarm turns into rage.

“So you’ve come here to…what? To mock me? To see if you can have your share of the booty? Get a piece of Omega ass as long as he is sitting duck in your neat little cell?”

Jim flinches as though he got slapped. Then anger rises in him at the insinuation.

“Of course not! What Marcus did was a despicable, heinous act. I’ll have no part in it.” Jim takes another deep breath to calm down. “I came here to offer my help. You’ll need a strong defense if you are to mitigate the charges brought against you. Dr. McCoy can be a witness and I myself can testify that you helped –”

There is a loud snarl as Khan turns away from him, crossing the cell in three powerful strides.

“I have no interest in defending myself before a body of the same useless, pathetic human beings who three-hundred years ago condemned me and my crew to a life in exile! There is no justice to be had for the likes of me. I learned that lesson a long time ago.”

“That’s not true! Humankind has evolved. Starfleet doesn’t condone this kind of gross misconduct among its own. Your side of the story will be heard.”

There is a pause in which Khan seems to consider his words. When he turns around to face Jim again, the rage has gone to be replaced by an eerie calmness.

“No. It won’t.”

“What?”

“My story will not be heard. I am not going to lay myself bare in front of a courtroom of bigoted humans who would like nothing better than to see me and my own crawl in the dirt. I’d rather face a lifetime in prison than give them the satisfaction.”

Jim can hardly believe what he is hearing. “Khan, this isn’t about your pride. This is about justice! What Marcus did to you was _wrong_. The public needs to know… We need to make sure that Marcus –”

“What is it to you?” Khan asks abruptly, stepping closer to the force field and scrutinizing Jim’s face. “Why do you care what happens to me? I betrayed your trust, I attacked you. Why would you even want to see me again?”

He sounds honestly curious and Jim finds himself wrong-footed for a moment. Then he clears his throat and decides to go for broke.

“You know why.”

Khan’s eyes widen and for the second time today, he seems struck speechless. Then suddenly, the rage is back full force. Khan’s face contorts into an angry mask. Jim is sure that if there was anything in that cell even remotely breakable, Khan would have smashed it by now.

“I’m not your charity case, Kirk! I’m not some pathetic little victim you need to pamper and hold while he cries himself to sleep over all the horrible things that were done to him! So if you’re here looking for an opportunity to indulge your Alpha side, I’m afraid you are out of luck.”

“For the last time – I did not come here to take advantage of you! I came here to _help_ you.”

“I don’t need your help, Captain. I’ve survived this long on my own; I don’t need anyone to fight my battles for me. And now if you’ll excuse me, I would prefer to be left alone.”

Jim can feel his jaw dropping as Khan turns his back on him, sits down on the cot, and proceeds to act as if he wasn’t there.

Jim stands there for a long moment before he realizes that he hasn’t got a clue what to say anymore. He decides to save what’s left of his dignity and leaves the brig at a measured pace, careful not to look back at the Omega who may have just condemned himself to a life sentence.

*~*~*

“So how did it go with Khan?” is the first thing out of Bones’ mouth when he drops by the bridge the next morning.

Jim makes a face while he signs off on a PADD an ensign had handed him. “He threw me out.”

“He threw you out of your own brig?”

“It’s not funny, Bones.”

The corners of Bones’ mouth twitch as though he might disagree, but he wisely decides to keep his thoughts to himself. “Got into a fight with Superman, did you? How d’ you manage that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because he’s a stubborn, thick-headed idiot who’d rather face a lifetime in prison than admit that Marcus got one over on him.”

Jim had meant his words to sound sarcastic, but realizes they came out more bitter than snide.

“What are you saying?”

Jim sighs. “He’s not going to testify.”

“What…about Marcus?”                                                                                                                                     

“No, Bones, about his time dancing hula with the Tellarites. Of course about Marcus!”

“Hey, don’t bite my head off! I was just making sure I heard right. Is that why you’re in such a foul mood? You’re a regular Mr. Grumpy-Pants today.”

Jim instantly feels bad for snapping at his friend. “I’m sorry, Bones. It’s just… Without a statement about his true motives, Khan has no chance of getting a fair trial. What happened between Marcus and him will never come to light. It just makes me feel…”

“Helpless?”

Jim looks up at Spock, who has joined them at the captain’s chair. Noticing Jim’s baffled look, the Vulcan adds: “An educated guess.”

“Right. And yes, Mr. Spock, that’s exactly how I feel.”

Bones is worrying his lower lip, teetering back and forth on his feet. “What if we were to testify at the trial? I’ve got the evidence from the scans I did on Khan. They may not be conclusive proof of what happened, but they are strong indicators.”

Spock shakes his head. “It’s still purely circumstantial. Without an eye-witness the prosecution will have no difficulty discarding it as irrelevant.”

“Oh, will they? Then why don’t you come up with a better solution, Mr. Know-It-All?”

Spock raises an eyebrow at the insult. “I have none to offer, Doctor. I was merely pointing out the flaws in your spur-of-the-moment plan.”

When Bones rolls his eyes and opens his mouth, no doubt to deliver a scathing retort, Jim decides it’s time to intervene.

“There’s got to be something we can do.”

Both Bones and Spock fall silent, clearly thinking hard. After a few quiet moments, a new voice joins in: “What if we _could_ get an eye-witness? Other than Khan, I mean?”

Jim swivels around in his chair. Uhura is watching them from her station, earpiece in hand. “Maybe there was someone at the Io Facility who noticed – or at least suspected – what was going on between Marcus and Khan. Someone who would be willing to talk.”

“Right,” Bones says. “Then all we need to do is get this as yet unnamed Section 31 operative to throw their late boss under a bus. That’s gonna happen.”

Uhura tilts her head. “I might be able to persuade a former colleague of mine to grant me access to Io’s internal communication files. That would at least give us a place to start.”

Jim feels new hope blossoming in his chest. It almost overrides his astonishment that Spock evidently spilled the beans on Khan to Uhura. “Excellent, Lieutenant. Let me know as soon as you’ve found something.”

Uhura nods and immediately turns away to start typing at her console.

“There is one other person who might be able to provide some insight,” Spock says from Jim’s right. “Carol Marcus.”

Jim looks up at Spock and considers his suggestion. Carol left the _Enterprise_ right after her father’s death and Jim hasn’t heard from her since. While it makes sense to question her, seeing as she used to work closely with Marcus, Jim isn’t sure he wants to poke his head into this particular hornets’ nest.

“Give the woman a break, Spock,” Bones snaps at the Vulcan. “She just buried her father. She deserves some peace and quiet after all this.”

“Nevertheless, it would be remiss of us not to take advantage of the valuable information she is likely to provide. Carol Marcus is bound to have come into contact with Khan through her dealings with the admiral. It is possible she may have noticed that something was afoot.”

“If so, would she be willing to testify against her own father?” Jim asks.

“She has proven to possess a mind of her own on numerous occasions,” Spock reminds him. “And she had no trouble believing the truth about the admiral’s misconduct regarding the Klingons once it was revealed to her.”

“True.” Jim rubs his chin. “All right. I’ll talk to her once we get to Earth.” He hits a button on the intercom. “Mr. Chekov, how are we doing?”

“Very good, sir. The _Enterprise_ will be able to move within the hour,” Chekov reports in his usual overenthusiastic way.

“That’s what I like to hear. Mr. Sulu, set course for Earth. Stand by full impulse power.”

“Aye, sir. Standing by.”

It has been a long time since Jim last looked forward to returning to Earth, but after the exertions of this mission, he finds himself yearning to sleep in his own bed again. Home is waiting.

*~*~*

Technically, Jim doesn’t need to be here. There are no dignitaries on the Federation shuttle, no high-ranking Starfleet officials to kiss up to, just half-a-dozen sturdy security guards with the latest phaser model tucked neatly into their belts.

Yet Jim couldn’t stay away.

The doors to the shuttle bay open and Khan is led in, flanked by a detail of _Enterprise_ personnel. He looks calm and collected, bored almost, as though he wasn’t aware what his transfer represented: that he was going to be delivered to Federation justice at last.

He will be out of Jim’s reach once he has boarded that shuttle.

Jim tried to talk to Khan again, tried to get him to testify against Marcus, but in vain. Khan remains as tight-lipped as he ever was. Considering what Jim knows about how rape trials went in the late twentieth century, Jim can’t exactly blame him; which doesn’t mean that he’s not furious at Khan’s refusal to see reason.

The cryotubes have already been beamed down to a secure Federation facility on Earth. They are going to be analyzed six ways from Sunday by local researchers no doubt, but Jim is reasonably sure they are not going to be opened. He has a contact at the science lab who will alert him the minute Federation policy changes.

He takes his promises seriously.

The _Enterprise_ guards pass him by and almost by accident Khan’s eyes meet Jim’s. For a moment Khan seems surprised to see him here, but he quickly hides the emotion under his usual air of cool detachment and looks away.

Jim curses himself for the wave of desire flooding his system at the brief contact. He thought he had gotten past his crush, thought he was above becoming horny around Khan after he found out how Marcus violated him, but apparently Jim’s body hasn’t gotten the message. He can still smell Khan as though he was standing right next to him, even though he just stopped in front of the shuttle to be handed over to the Federation security detail.

One of the guards reaches into a crate on the ground and takes out two pairs of manacles to replace the _Enterprise_ ’s standard issue ones. Jim’s heart skips a beat when he notices that there are honest-to-goodness _chains_ connecting the cuffs for both hands and feet. Someone seems to have done their homework on augment physiology.

While two of the guards start attaching the manacles to Khan’s ankles and wrists, Khan looks back at Jim. A jolt goes through Jim, but this time it has nothing to do with sexual desire. It’s like his heart is reaching out to Khan, desperate to answer the silent plea surfacing in Khan’s usually so cold and distant eyes.

But then Khan is led into the shuttle, chains clinking, and as the hatch closes shut behind him, Jim isn’t sure if he didn’t just imagine what he thought he saw.

*~*~*

Jim can’t sleep at all the following night. He tosses and turns in sheets that still smell of the Caitian girls he had over right before the dressing-down he received from Pike over the Nibiru mission. It seems like a lifetime ago.

He conjures up their image, the sensation of that awesome pair of tails tickling him in all the right places, but it doesn’t even get him half-hard. What does get him going instead is the memory of Khan’s arms wrapped tightly around him in the _Vengeance_ ’s hangar, the firm muscles Jim was still able to feel even through their space suits, and Khan’s scent once it came off, a smell he could happily drown himself in. Jim reaches his climax so fast it comes as a shock, wave after wave rippling through his body in the most delicious orgasm he has experienced in a long time.

After he has come, Jim is so disgusted with himself that he barely dares to look at the mess he made while he wipes himself clean with a towel. How could he fantasize about a rape victim, a man who spent the better part of one year in the clutches of a pervert like Marcus? He’s sure that sex is the last thing Khan needs right now. Jim feels dirty just thinking about him in this context.

He decides to give sleep another try. When he finally dozes off for a couple of hours, his dreams are riddled with cages and eyes that plead with him to set them free.

*~*~*

They meet at Jim’s second-favorite dive after the bar near Headquarters, simply because they are less likely to be overheard by Starfleet ears. It’s not like they have a secret to keep exactly; after all, this is about bringing Marcus’s crimes out in the open. Still, Jim doesn’t want to risk allegations of collaborating with a criminal (again) if he can avoid it. So the _Talos Inn_ it is.

It’s still early in the day so business is slow. There are a couple of Andorians perched along the bar and a lonesome Skorr is nursing something green through his beak. Jim pays for the drinks he ordered and carries them over to their table in the corner. Uhura, Spock, and Bones accept them gratefully.

“Is Scotty not coming?” Bones asks, taking a generous sip from his bourbon. “I thought you filled him in.”

“I did, but he’s still stuck on the _Vengeance_ ,” Jim says. “Acting Chief Engineer.”

“Bet he loves that.”

“When I spoke to him, he went on for half an hour about what a prick his new boss is. A Captain Styles, ever heard of him?”

“No. Have you?”

Jim shakes his head.

“I believe I have had the pleasure,” Spock says. His lips are curling in a way that makes Jim suspect their encounter was anything but pleasant – the Vulcan version of _He’s an ass_ , probably. Interesting.

“So how are you all enjoying your shore leave?” Jim asks.

“Feels great to have real earth under my feet again instead of tons of steel and metal surrounded by a whole lot of nothing,” Bones says. “I could get used to that.”

“Mine has been fine so far,” Uhura says. “I even had the chance to chat with an old friend at the Io Facility,” she adds pointedly.

Jim’s interest is immediately peaked. “You did? How did it go?”

“She put me in touch with two members of Section 31 who worked closely with Khan while he was stationed there: a Captain Leto, who is in charge of the main science lab, and an Ensign Hall. She’s an Omega too, so my hope was that Khan might have bonded with her on some level.”

“But?”

Uhura shakes her head. “No such luck. Khan seems to have been quite isolated on Io. He didn’t mingle much. Captain Leto even described him as a ‘cold fish’.”

Jim can’t prevent a smile from forming on his lips. “I get that. He’s not exactly sociable.”

“As far as I can tell, there was no gossip about Marcus and him. It was widely known that Khan – or John Harrison, as they knew him – was the admiral’s favorite, but nobody seemed to have caught on how far that favoritism extended.”

“So we’ve got nothing.”

Uhura shakes her head apologetically.

“There’s still the results from the scans I did,” Bones says. “That’s got to count for something.”

“As I pointed out, Doctor, your results will not be enough to alleviate the plethora of accusations Khan is facing.”

“So that brings us back to Carol Marcus,” Bones says, surprisingly not taking the Vulcan’s bait. “Have you talked to her yet?”

“I tried,” Jim says. “She’s not taking my calls.”

“That’s odd. She seemed quite taken with you while she was on the _Enterprise_.”

“It is indeed somewhat out of character,” Spock says.

Jim is distracted from his musings when the door to the _Talos Inn_ opens and two familiar faces walk in – Sulu and Pavel Chekov, whose cheeks are burning for some reason. They spot Jim and the others from afar and head for their table.

“You told them?” Jim asks Bones with a frown, making sure his voice doesn’t carry across the room.

“Relax, they can be trusted. And don’t tell me we can’t use all the help we can get.”

Jim is forced to agree even though he would have preferred to keep the whole thing a little quieter. He gets up to greet Sulu and Chekov, who pull up two additional chairs and join them at the table.

“Captain,” Sulu says with a nod.

“Sulu, we’re on leave. In here, it’s Jim.”

Sulu beams at him while Chekov actually manages to knock over Spock’s drink and spill Altair water all over the table and into Uhura’s lap.

“I’m glad to see your clumsiness is restricted to places with natural gravity,” Bones says dryly. Uhura gives Chekov a playful shove as she passes him on her way to the restroom.

“So what did we miss?” Sulu asks, all business-like.

“Io is a dead end,” Jim reports, morosely spinning his bottle of beer.

“That’s too bad. But I guess it was worth a try.”

Jim nods, noticing that Sulu doesn’t look him in the eye but starts fiddling with the menu instead.

“Something on your mind, Sulu?”

Sulu opens his mouth as if to say something, but then he shakes his head.

“Spill it,” Jim orders in his best command voice even though he just told his helmsman not to worry about ranks in here.

Sulu squirms a little on his chair. “I hope you know, Captain, that I’m more than happy to assist you in all your endeavors. I just have one question: Why are we helping Khan?”

“Didn’t Dr. McCoy fill you in on the details?”

“He did, but…it still doesn’t excuse − what I’m saying is: Khan _did_ attack Starfleet Headquarters. He _did_ kill Admiral Marcus. Shouldn’t he be punished for the crimes he committed?”

“No one’s denying that,” Jim says. “All we want to do here is to make sure he gets a fair trial. If Marcus hadn’t treated Khan the way he did, things would never have gotten out of hand. Khan would have had no reason to attack HQ if he hadn’t been blackmailed by Marcus with the lives of his crew.”

“And he probably wouldn’t have gone all homicidal on Marcus first chance he got if Marcus had kept his hands to himself,” Bones says in a dark grumble.

Sulu nods, taking it all in. That’s when Chekov pipes up, his accent thicker than usual, as though he spent the last days speaking nothing but Russian.

“What I find odd is that there hasn’t been anything on the news about Marcus almost starting a war with the Klingons. I mean, the funeral was held over a week ago. It’s not like the press to stay silent when they get wind of a scandal like this. And there has been nothing on Khan, nothing. You’d think that an augment revived after three-hundred years of cryogenic sleep would make the headlines. But they are still sticking to the _John Harrison_ alias.”

Jim considers him. It is odd indeed.

“If you ask me, this all smells of a cover-up,” Bones says. “Section 31 again?”

Jim shakes his head. “I can’t believe they’d still have that much power with Charlize Hunter as the new head of Starfleet. I know her from my days at the Academy. She’s a good friend of Pike’s – _was_ a good friend,” he corrects himself.

“Sounds to me like you have an in with her. Why don’t you use your natural charms for good and get us some insights into the workings of the Starfleet machinery?”

Jim smirks. “It wasn’t like that. She’s old enough to be my mother.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” Bones says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Jim rolls his eyes.

“Misplaced innuendo aside, the doctor does have a point,” Spock says. “Maybe you could use your long-standing acquaintance with Admiral Hunter to our advantage.”

“I haven’t talked to her in ages. I’m not sure she even remembers me.”

“She’d be the first woman to forget you, for better or worse,” Bones says. “Go talk to her.”

“All right.” Hunter would indeed be a tremendous asset if Jim could convince her to support their cause.

Uhura returns from the restroom and presses a quick kiss to Spock’s temple. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to leave. My parents made dinner.”

Jim stares at Spock. “You’re having dinner at her parents’ house? Seriously?”

Spock squares his shoulders. “I don’t understand your mystification, Captain. On Vulcan, arranged marriages were the norm. The respective partners’ parents would meet well before the partners themselves did. It is illogical to ascribe such high oddity to the notion of meeting one’s lover’s parents.”

Jim can hardly suppress his smirk. “Good luck then. And Godspeed.”

“Why would I need either?” Spock asks quizzically. Uhura tugs at his sleeve and practically drags him out of his chair, winking at Jim as she does so.

When the two of them have left, Jim returns to his beer. The things Chekov brought up are bugging him more than he first realized. Marcus arming against the Klingons should have been exposed by now, as should his sabotaging the _Enterprise_. Something’s not right here.

“We still have time. It’s going to be weeks before Khan’s case goes to trial,” Sulu says, apparently trying to make up for his earlier misgivings.

“We may as well all be reassigned by then,” Chekov reminds him.

The thought, surprisingly, holds little appeal to Jim. Normally he can’t wait to feel space under his feet again, but with Khan’s fate in the balance, he finds himself oddly reluctant to leave Earth.

Damn. He’s got to get a grip on this thing.

They talk about more pleasant things then, plans they have for the rest of their leave (apparently Sulu entered into an interspecies fencing competition and is going to spend the next two weeks practicing his moves). Jim is halfway through his second beer when Sulu and Chekov say their goodbyes and promise to stay in touch.

Bones’ eyes are on Jim once they are alone at the table.

“What?”

Bones tilts his head. “Sulu had a point, you know. Why _are_ we helping Khan? The real reason, I mean.”

Jim’s first instinct is to deny it, to reject the underlying insinuation, but Bones has been his friend for far too long to let that fool him.

“I know,” he says instead. “I’m not objective. I’m not even rational. It’s just…what happened to Khan is wrong on so many levels. I owe it to him to make things right – as a member of Starfleet and –” He breaks off.

“And as an Alpha,” Bones concludes. Jim nods.

“Well, I can hardly blame you,” Bones says with a dramatic sigh. “If I were to swing that way, I’d probably be on him in two seconds flat − he’s quite the dish.”

Jim rolls his eyes while Bones winks conspiratorially at him.

“Just do me a favor? Don’t let down your guard around Khan. The man may be victimized, but he’s still deadly dangerous.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Jim says. It still hurts to think about Pike.

“Good. Then let’s blow this popsicle stand and get you in touch with the queen of the hive.”

*~*~*

Charlize Hunter is just as gorgeous as Jim remembers her – long-legged, dark-skinned, curvy in all the right places, and way out of his league. Jim can’t keep his eyes off her as he crosses the Officer’s Lounge to the table for two where Hunter is waiting for him. She’s wearing her admiral’s uniform like a statement, all effortless power and grace. The new position suits her.

“Jim,” Charlize says and smiles magnificently up at him.

“Admiral,” Jim says. He can barely resist the temptation to take her hand and kiss it. Gosh, but the woman is beautiful.

“What are you having?” Charlize asks, offering him the menu.

“Nothing for me, thank you.”                                                                                                                           

One of Charlize’s eyebrows rises up. “That’s a first. Must be serious if Jim Kirk is willing to abstain because of it.” She’s smiling, but Jim can see the honest curiosity in her eyes. He gets it, he wasn’t exactly forthcoming with information in his message to her. It’s a miracle she agreed to meet with him at all.

“It is serious,” Jim says and takes a moment to collect himself. Then he decides to start with the lesser of two evils.

“I’m sure you are aware that it was the _Enterprise_ and her crew who captured Khan Noonien Singh and brought him back to Earth?”

Charlize frowns. “Yes,” she says carefully.

“Then you may have also read my report on how Admiral Marcus sabotaged my ship and marooned us in Klingon space. He could easily have started a war.”

“I am aware of your report,” Charlize says in a tone that leaves Jim clueless as to what she is thinking.

He soldiers on. “Then I’m sure you can understand why my senior officers and I are wondering how none of this has reached the press yet?”

Charlize nods. “It’s very simple. Information on the circumstances of Admiral Marcus’s death has been restricted to Security Level 12 and above. The public is not going to be made aware of a war that could have been but, thanks to you and your crew, didn’t happen. There’s no need to agitate anyone.”

Jim frowns. Security Level 12? That’s way above his pay grade.

“With all due respect, Admiral,” Jim starts again, “isn’t that something the public should be let in on? It would prove that Starfleet takes care of bad eggs in their ranks. Isn’t that the kind of transparency the Federation is supposed to stand for?”

“That’s where John Harrison comes in. As far as the public is concerned, he is still a Starfleet officer. It was he who attacked HQ and who is responsible for the bombing of the Kelvin Memorial Archive. His conviction will go a long way to answer any remaining questions the public might have.”

Jim swallows. “So you’re saying that Khan is going to be your scapegoat.”

“I would hardly call him a scapegoat. He _is_ guilty of the crimes he is accused of.”

“Yes, he is, but…if you’ve read my report, you know there are extenuating circumstances. Marcus blackmailed Khan from the moment he woke him up. He is responsible for unleashing Khan in the first place. And the things he did to him –”

“Jim,” Hunter interrupts him. “I know you are one hell of an officer and I appreciate you coming to me with this. But trust me when I say it is in everyone’s best interest not to make any of this publicly known. The whole affair is embarrassing enough as it is. The last thing we need is a sexual harassment charge against a respected Starfleet admiral to top it all.”

Jim blinks at her, barely able to grasp what he is hearing. “So you’re just going to let Marcus get away with what he did?”

“The man is dead, Jim. He can’t defend himself anymore. And even if he were convicted, it’s not he who would suffer for it, but Starfleet. Our whole organization would be discredited. Where is the sense in that?”

“Well, for one thing, it would be the honest way,” Jim says quietly.

Hunter clicks her tongue. “Jim, I don’t know why you are arguing Khan’s case in the first place, but the decision has already been made. Starfleet Command is of the opinion that there is nothing morally wrong with sentencing a terrorist for the murders he committed. I would have thought you of all people would appreciate that.”

A shadow crosses her face and Jim can feel his cheeks reddening.

“I meant no disrespect to Admiral Pike.”

Hunter nods. “I understand. Christopher always spoke very highly of you. That’s why I’m going to let this go. Khan Noonien Singh’s case is out of your hands now. You’ve done your bit. Now let us do ours.”

Jim nods, still trying to wrap his mind around what has been said. The conversation is clearly over, so Jim rises from his seat and is about to take his leave when Hunter adds:

“It shouldn’t be too long now until the matter is closed. Khan’s trial has been moved forward to the 28th. Judge Reynolds assures me that it’s an open and shut case. In less than a week, Khan will be off to Elba II for good.”

“What?” Jim feels like there’s a sling tightening around his throat. He can hardly breathe anymore.

“Elba II. The high-security asylum? It’s the only place we feel it’s safe to lock up an augment.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Jim says. His mind is suddenly flooded with pictures of Khan living out the rest of his unnaturally long life on a deserted Class K planet, shoveling dirt under a pressure dome and lining up for meals with chains around his ankles.

Hunter, oblivious to his inner turmoil, extends her hand to him. “Enjoy the rest of your leave, Jim. You’ve earned it.”

“Thank you, Admiral.”

Jim’s head is buzzing as he walks out of the Officer’s Lounge. Hunter’s words are like icicles stabbing at his skin and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get rid of the sense of dread that has settled in his chest.

Spock and Bones are waiting for him outside the elevator.

“The word?” Spock asks.

“The word…is _no_.”

Both Bones and Spock stare at him, stunned into silence.

“What does that mean?” Bones asks after a minute.

“It means,” Jim says, “that Starfleet Command is going to sweep this whole thing under the rug. Marcus’s crimes will not be made public – neither his warmongering nor his sexual assault on Khan.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“I suppose the admiral has given you sufficient reason to justify such unwarranted behavior?” Spock asks.

“Not even close. Apparently, the public needs to be protected from knowing the truth. Command doesn’t want to start a panic. As for the rape, they are worried that any of this might backfire on them and ruin everyone’s reputation.”

Bones gapes openly at him and while Spock shows a little more restraint, his eyes are wide. For a few moments, neither of them speaks. Then Bones clears his throat.

“Well…that’s it then. Isn’t it?”

“No,” Jim says, clenching and unclenching his fists. “That’s not it. Far from it.”

*~*~*

They are all here, each and every one of his senior officers. Bones and Spock are by the coat rack, arguing over how to properly feed a Tribble. Uhura is talking to Scotty, who brought Keenser with him and has already helped himself to the bottle of Saurian brandy on Jim’s nightstand. Sulu is admiring Jim’s collection of ancient swords with Chekov _oohing_ and _ahhing_ at his enthusiastic explanations.

Jim feels warmth spreading through his chest as he watches them. They are more than his crew – they are his family. He would trust each of them with his life. And even though the last thing he wants is for any of them to come to harm, they are the first people he would choose whenever he was about to embark on something risky or dangerous.

What he is about to suggest certainly qualifies as both.

Jim has thought long and hard about it, has examined and re-examined his motives, but in the end, it came down to a simple fact: Starfleet Command was willing to sacrifice the truth in order to save their own hides. They were going to throw Khan under a bus to keep a clean slate.

That’s not the Starfleet Jim signed up for.

He clears his throat and waits until his officers’ eyes are on him and everyone has fallen silent. Then he begins.

“My friends, you all know why you’re here. Starfleet Command is not ready to face up to the fact that one of their own committed misconduct in the most outrageous way imaginable. Admiral Marcus threatened all of our lives. He was ready to blow up the _Enterprise_ to cover up his mistakes. What’s more, he blackmailed and extorted an Omega for his own sexual needs. Yet Command is willing to overlook all that in order not to agitate the public.”

Jim takes a deep breath. “This isn’t the Starfleet way. It is plain wrong. If Command has forgotten about the values the Federation stands for, then it’s our duty to remind them.”

Bones applauds him with a poorly executed salute. “Nice speech, Jim, but what are we going to do about it?”

“Maybe the best way would be to talk to the press. Get them involved,” Chekov suggests.

“If Starfleet Command is united on the Khan issue, you can bet they won’t let any of this reach the news,” Uhura says. “Unless any of you has an in with one of the planetary networks that exceeds their influence, we haven’t got a chance.”

An awkward silence greets her words.

“We could rally supporters,” Sulu says after a while. “There’s bound to be dozens of officers who see things as we do. If we stand together, we might be able to make Starfleet Command see reason.”

“There isn’t enough time,” Jim says. “Khan’s trial is set for this Friday. It would take weeks to prepare an open revolt.”

There is another silence, heavier than the last. Then Bones says with a sigh “I don’t know about you, but it seems to me that we are out of options.”

“Out of legal options, yes,” Jim says delicately.

Bones narrows his eyes. “I know that look. What are you planning, Jim?”

Jim takes a deep breath. The moment has come to lay his cards on the table.

“We need to buy time,” he says. “Khan is not going to stand trial on the 28th.”

“And how are we going to accomplish that?” Spock asks.

“It’s easy. We are going to break Khan out of prison.”

There is a collective gasp around the room as everyone stares at Jim in shock. Scotty looks absolutely flabbergasted while Spock’s frown has deepened.

Bones is the first to find his voice again. “Are you out of your mind? That’s a court-martial offence!”

“It cannot be done!” Scotty says. “Khan is held in the most restricted cell of a maximum security prison! It would take days before we could even get past the entrance gate!”

“I have every confidence in your ability to work miracles, Mr. Scott.”

Scotty gapes at him and turns to Keenser. “Can you believe this guy?”

“Even if we did manage to break Khan out of a highly guarded Federation facility – where would we take him?” Spock asks.

“Right,” Bones says. “Federation security would be onto us in seconds. There’s no place on Earth they won’t be able to hunt us down.”

“That’s why we need to escape into space,” Jim says. “It’s our only chance.”

“But _how_? We don’t have a ship! Are you going to hire us a freighter?”

“No, no, no. A freighter would only slow us down. It is much simpler. We are going to steal the _Enterprise_.”


	4. Part Three (2)

The door closes behind Scotty, who is the last to leave, having thrown Jim a parting glance of the utmost disapproval.

Jim takes a deep breath once the room is silent. That could have gone better, but it also could have gone a lot worse. At least they are willing to think it over. He’ll know by tomorrow whether they are good to go. Jim is certain there’s no way he can pull off this mission by himself – he needs his crew to see it through.

The biggest challenge is still waiting behind him next to the coffee table, studying him silently with his hands clasped behind his back. Jim turns around; time to face the music.

“Okay, let’s hear it, Spock. I know you’re bursting to throw it in my face. I’m irrational, a hot-head, I’m incapable of making wise command decisions. Tell me how insane my plan is, how potentially dangerous, how _illogical_. I know you want to.”

Spock clears his throat. “While this may all be true, Captain, it is not what I was going to say.”

“It’s not?”

“No. What I was going to say is extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures. This appears to be one of those times. Since extraordinary measures have proven to be your forte, I defer to your good judgment in this matter.”

Jim can feel his jaw dropping at the Vulcan’s words. It takes a while before he is able to form a coherent sentence again.

“Is that your way of saying ‘I’m in’?”

“I may have phrased it differently, Captain, but yes, I believe it is.”

For an instant, Jim has the strong impulse to hug his first officer, but he quickly restrains himself. Spock would probably punch him in the face and, astonishing show of loyalty aside, Jim has tasted enough of the strength in those Vulcan hands to last him a lifetime.

He settles for a smile. “Thank you, Spock. That means a lot to me.”

“You are welcome, Jim.”

The knot in Jim’s stomach has loosened somewhat. If there is one thing he has learned over the last months, it’s that with Spock at his side, he can do anything.

*~*~*

The streets of San Francisco are busy this time of day. Jim has to navigate his way around a group of Coridan tourists and a throng of schoolchildren when he crosses the square at what he hopes is a measured, dignified pace.

He feels anything but. The fake uniform itches and is giving him the constant desire to scratch himself. His palms are clammy, but Jim knows better than to berate himself for it; he’s going to need the adrenaline that goes with it. Desperately.

He is looking back over his shoulder at a Zaranite wearing a purple breathing mask of all things, when he bumps into someone – a petite blonde – and quickly apologizes.

“I’m sorry, I should have watched where I was going… Carol?”

“Jim!”

It really is her. She is wearing a dress uniform as though she was attending some sort of ceremony. She looks great, as always, but there’s no concealing the shadows under her eyes.

Before Jim has a chance to speak to her, Carol bursts out: “Did they call you in, too?”

“What? Who?”

Her cheeks redden. “Never mind. I have to go.”

“Wait!” Jim actually has to grab her arm to prevent her from slipping off.

“I tried calling you. You didn’t answer.”

Carol squirms a little in his grip. “There wasn’t time. The funeral –”

“Was held over a week ago. I thought…” He trails off, not knowing how to go on. _I thought you cared,_ his mind supplies, but Jim is unwilling to say the words out loud. Instead he latches onto the peculiar incident of bumping into Carol in front of the Federation courthouse, of all places.

“Wait a minute…have you been talking to someone involved in Khan’s case?”

“Jim…”

“Carol, what’s going on here?”

“Please, Jim, let me go!”

Jim is suddenly becoming aware of the tight grip he has on her arm and quickly releases her.

“Sorry.”

Carol shakes her head, tears welling up in her eyes.  She is about to walk away when her gaze is drawn to the bars on Jim’s shoulder and lingers there. Her breath catches, comprehension dawning on her face.

Oh, _shit_.

“Well, it was nice seeing you,” Jim says hastily and turns to go, heart pounding in his chest. If Carol suspects… If she blows the whistle…

Jim risks a peek over his shoulder to see Carol still gazing after him, frozen to the spot, but he quickly loses sight of her in the crowd.

Jim curses under his breath. Why did he have to run into Carol Marcus _here_ , of all places, of all times? He has no idea where her loyalties lie these days, but it certainly isn’t with him and what he is about to do.  

Jim straightens the jacket of his uniform and decides to push the thought away for now. He has to focus on the mission if he wants it to succeed. He’ll worry about Carol Marcus later.

Bones, to Jim’s relief, is already waiting for him at the bottom of the steps to the courthouse.

“Looks good on you, _Admiral_ ,” he says with a hint of irony after he has given Jim a once-over.

“Never mind that. Is Sulu in position?”

“Ready when you are. Just give the word.”

Jim nods and takes a deep breath. “We’re going in.”

Bones pulls out his communicator to signal Sulu while they ascend the stairs. Jim is relieved to hear his helmsman’s voice sound steady and confident.

“Khan has been transferred as predicted,” Bones says as he snaps the communicator shut. “They’re holding him on Level K, ready to be processed for his trial tomorrow.”

“Good.”

Jim has memorized a rough layout of the courthouse and knows it by heart: Level K is located at the very top of the north wing of the building. It all comes down to them appearing as though they have every right to be here. Time to put on their poker faces.

Jim shows his fake ID to the guards at the entrance and is waved through almost immediately. So far, so good. The real challenge is unlocking the many doors between them and Khan with the card. That’s when they are going to find out whether the price they paid Keenser’s contact was justified.

There is a security check at the entrance to the main lobby where they are scanned for weapons and other items of a less-than-savory nature. Bones has to hand over his medical bag for a thorough examination. It’s a good thing that Spock came up with a way to conceal the tools they’ll need inside Bones’ tricorder, or this is where their trip would have ended.

Once they are allowed passage, they quickly head over to the elevator at the north side of the lobby. It’s a tight squeeze with a mix of lawyers, security guards, and court attendants riding up with them, but it soon empties as they ascend. Jim schools his features into what he hopes is befitting an admiral, and restrains himself from throwing covert glances at Bones.

When they get off the elevator at Level K, they are immediately blocked by another gate and a security officer standing guard in front of it. They fill out a couple of forms and are processed through. Jim’s fake ID checks out and he exchanges a look of relief with Bones.

They’re in.

A second guard leads them through the winding corridors of Level K. Doors block their way at every turn and force them to identify themselves. Jim memorizes the route they are taking as well as he is able to; they are going to have to retract their steps with Khan in order to get back into the elevator. Only there will Scotty be able to beam them out of the building, for the whole of Level K is shielded to prevent unauthorized transport.

They finally come to a halt in some sort of reception area with two security officers manning the desk. Bones steps forward.

“Dr. Leonard McCoy, Starfleet Medical. We’ve come for the prisoner’s pre-trial medical exam.”

“Orders and IDs,” one of the guards demands in a flat voice. They both seem to be bored out of their minds; the second guard even hides a yawn behind his hand.

Good. That’ll make it easier to overpower them.

While their paperwork is being processed, Jim covertly scans the room for exits and security cameras. It will be Sulu’s job to take them out once he’s here, but it never hurts to be prepared.

“Everything checks out,” the first guard announces and hands them back their IDs. “Come with me.”

The visiting room is right next to the reception area with a desk and three chairs surrounded by four depressingly blank walls. The guard leads them in and motions them to sit down.

“I’ll go get the prisoner. Stay here.”

They don’t speak while they’re waiting. The minutes drag on in silence which, unfortunately, gives Jim ample opportunity to work up nerves. He hasn’t seen Khan since he left the _Enterprise_. How is he going to react when he finds them sitting here? Will he be able to remain composed enough to hide his astonishment or will he give their game away? If Khan doesn’t play along, this all will be over very quickly.

Then the door opens and Khan is ushered in and Jim isn’t at all prepared for the sight of him. His breath catches when those steely eyes find his and widen in surprise. Khan’s wrists are manacled and he is wearing the most hideous orange prison uniform – which still isn’t enough to distract Jim from the appeal of those broad shoulders. He swallows hard to compose himself.

“Make it quick,” the guard says before he withdraws, leaving them alone with the prisoner. The door slides shut behind him with an ominous sound.

Jim can’t prevent himself from looking Khan over again. He seems okay, all in all, if a bit weary.

Khan’s eyes flicker between Bones and him until they finally settle on Jim. He’s clearly waiting for an explanation.

“Bones,” Jim says with a nod at McCoy. 

Bones promptly gets up and opens his medical bag to pull out his tricorder. He casually shields it from the security cameras with his body while he approaches Khan, who looks up at him through narrowed eyes.

“Let me see your arm,” Bones says and to Jim’s relief, Khan complies after only a moment’s hesitation.

While Bones disables the tracking device implanted in Khan’s arm with the tools Spock provided, Jim seizes the chance to address Khan under his breath.

“In two minutes, the guard is going to come back in here to collect me for an urgent summons by Starfleet Command. We are going to take him out. Scotty is standing by to beam us aboard the _Enterprise_ once we’ve cleared the security gate. Do you understand?”

Khan holds his gaze for a minute, clearly pondering his options, and finally nods. A stray strand of hair falls onto his forehead, making him seem as unruly as during their first meeting on Qo’noS.

“I’m done here,” Bones says and packs away his tricorder. Khan lowers his still-bound hands into his lap. To a casual viewer he might appear relaxed, but Jim can see the muscles coiling to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

Jim carefully listens for any sounds outside the room which might alert him to Sulu’s arrival. Bones, meanwhile, takes position right next to the door, leaning against the wall as closely as possible, a hypospray nestling in his palm.

There is a commotion outside the door and just a few seconds later, the security guard from before enters the room at a quick pace.

“Admiral,” he says, “Starfleet Command wants you right –”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, for at that moment, Bones walks up behind him and empties the hypospray into his carotid artery. The guard collapses to the floor in an instant.

“Let’s go,” Jim says, gesturing to Khan, but he needn’t have bothered. Khan is already on his feet and beats him to the open door. Jim suppresses a groan and follows suit, bending down to collect the phaser from the unconscious guard’s belt on the way.

Sulu is waiting for them in the reception area, weapon drawn. The second guard lies slumped over the desk, apparently out cold.

“Good work, Mr. Sulu,” Jim says. “What’s our status?”

“All security cameras on this level are disabled. Agents have been alerted and are on their way up.”

“No time to waste then. Khan, you’re with me.”

Khan, who doesn’t seem to be impeded by his bound hands at all and is already on his way out, looks back over his shoulder with a frown.

Jim sighs. “Okay, ground rules. Your place is at my side until we’ve cleared the building – no wandering off on your own. You are still our prisoner and you will remain so until I’ve made sure that you’ve had a fair trial. Is that clear?”

Jim does his best to stare Khan down despite their difference in height. He takes a step closer to make sure to get his next point across.

“And one more thing, if you harm or kill anyone, I will personally drag your ass back to Earth and make sure you will never see the light of day again.”

Khan scrutinizes Jim’s face, his own a study in caginess and mistrust. After what seems like minutes he finally nods.

“Good,” Jim says, satisfied for now. “Then let’s get the hell out of here.”

*~*~*

The winding corridors of Level K seem even more maze-like to Jim now that he has to navigate them on his own, but he didn’t get to be the youngest captain in Starfleet because of his good looks. They’ve soon reached the security gate, Khan remaining stuck to his side the whole way.

This, however, is where their luck runs out. They are about to make their way across the hall when the elevator door opens and spits out a team of six security officers, all armed to the teeth and ready to fire.

“Take cover!” Jim shouts before he ducks behind a counter. Khan, amazingly, is still at his side, listening closely to the sound of phasers firing over their heads. For the first time, Jim regrets not having Khan’s manacles removed; they’ll be a real hindrance in a fight.

He draws his own phaser and returns fire. Sulu has already joined the battle and has taken down one of the guards, who has collapsed halfway out of the elevator and is now blocking the door.

“All we need to do is to make it inside. Scotty is standing by to beam us out,” Jim hastily explains to Khan.

“Knocking the guards unconscious does not violate our agreement, I presume?” Khan asks, and for a moment Jim doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Then he remembers his own words from just a few minutes ago.

“No. No, it doesn’t. Just…don’t kill them. They are just doing their duty.”

Khan scowls darkly at that but before Jim can get another word in, he rises from behind the counter and makes a run for the elevator.

“Khan!” Jim shouts but he needn’t have bothered. The couple of phaser blasts that hit Khan’s body don’t even slow him down. Like their own, the guards’ phasers are set to stun.

Khan knocks out two security officers blocking his way with his bound hands and head-butts a third. The noise of phaser fire has gotten considerably quieter. Jim risks another peek around the corner and finds that the door to the elevator is now unblocked; Khan has removed the stunned guard’s body. Jim quickly makes his way over, Sulu and Bones following his lead.

As soon as the elevator door closes behind them, Jim pulls out his communicator.

“Unit 2, this is Unit 1. The _Kobayashi Maru_ has set sail for the Promised Land. Acknowledge.”

“Message acknowledged,” Uhura’s voice can be heard through the speaker. “All units will be informed. Stand by.”

Khan raises an eyebrow. “The Promised Land?”

Jim shrugs. “Figure of speech.”

He doesn’t get to hear Khan’s retort, for at that moment, he can feel the familiar prickling that tells him that they are about to be beamed up.

*~*~*

“Welcome aboard,” Scotty greets them from behind the transporter console the second they have rematerialized.

Jim jumps off the platform and hurries over to his chief engineer. “Is the ship ready?”

“As promised, she’s all yours, sir. All systems automated and ready. A chimpanzee and two trainees could run her.”

“Thank you, Mr. Scott, I’ll try not to take that personally. Bones, would you escort our guest to his quarters?”

“With pleasure,” Bones says and grabs Khan’s arm to lead him from the platform. For a moment Khan looks like he is about to lash out at the touch, but he visibly restrains himself.

“We are not going to lock you in the brig,” Jim explains. “But you will be confined to quarters for the duration of this journey. Do you understand?”

Khan raises his manacled hands. “What about these?”

“Dr. McCoy will remove them once he has secured you in your room.”

“I’m not leaving Earth without my crew,” Khan declares as though he was in any position to dictate terms. Jim finds himself strangely touched by Khan’s determination to appear in control.

“You won’t have to,” he says and bends over the transporter console to reach the intercom button. “Mr. Chekov. Report.”

“Transport successful,” Chekov answers promptly. “All cryotubes are present and accounted for. I managed to override the research facility’s security protocols and compensate for the magnetic fluctuations.” He sounds as pleased with himself as the cat that ate the proverbial canary.

“Excellent,” Jim says with a smirk and turns back to Khan. “There was little sense in leaving the cryotubes behind seeing how Starfleet Command knows they can be used against you.” He straightens himself. “Are we good to go then?”

There is a glint in Khan’s eyes that Jim can’t interpret, but the Omega allows himself to be led away by Bones without further resistance.

“Mr. Scott,” Jim says with a nod at his chief engineer, and together they make their way to the bridge. It’s weird walking the corridors of the _Enterprise_ when they are as deserted as this; usually the ship is so full of life, teeming with the combined energy of its 430 crew members. This will be a very different trip from the ones they are used to.

When they arrive on the bridge, Jim is pleased to see that Spock, Sulu, and Uhura are already at their stations. He smiles at them while he takes his place in the captain’s chair. Scotty mans Chekov’s station next to Sulu and starts tapping away immediately.

The viewscreen in front of Jim shows the inside of Spacedock, a vast oblong open area where about a dozen ships are moored, the _Vengeance_ most prominent among them.

“All right. Let’s get this show on the road. Mr. Sulu, engage auto systems.”

“Aye, engaged.”

“Clear all moorings.”

“Cleared, sir.”

“One-quarter impulse power.”

“One-quarter impulse.”

The _Enterprise_ starts moving.

This is it, then. Jim can practically hear the warning bells go off inside Spacedock – an unauthorized departure by a ship that has just barely been patched back together, officers milling about in a panicked frenzy wondering how on Earth there could be a yellow alert in Spacedock.

“Steady as she goes, Sulu.”

“Two minutes to space doors,” Sulu announces.

Jim can hear the turbolift open and close behind him and a moment later, Bones takes his place next to the captain’s chair.

“Did everything go all right with Khan?” Jim asks.

Bones nods. “Surprisingly so. He’s been uncharacteristically cooperative. I don’t like it.”

“Bones, you’ve got to learn to trust a little.”

Bones grumbles something that Jim is probably not supposed to make out. He is distracted by Uhura, who urgently reports:

“Sir, Commander of Starfleet on emergency channel. She orders you to surrender this vessel.”

“No reply, Uhura.”

There is a brief pause before Uhura answers. “Aye, sir.”

“One minute to space doors,” Sulu says. Jim can see them more clearly now, two wings of solid steel with a myriad of red warning lights blinking away at the edges.

“Are you just gonna _walk_ through them?” Bones asks from his left, staring at the barrier in front of them in alarm.

“Calm yourself, Doctor.”

“Sir, _Vengeance_ is powering up with orders to pursue,” Uhura says.

Of course Starfleet would mobilize their new pride and joy to catch them. Never mind that Marcus had that vessel built for the sole purpose of starting a war with the Klingons.

“Thirty seconds to space doors,” Sulu says.

“And now, Mr. Scott,” Jim says.

“Sir?”

“The doors, Mr. Scott!”

“Aye, sir. I’m workin’ on it!”

Jim can hear Bones give some sort of pathetic whimper next to him as they are inching closer and closer to the barrier. For a second, Jim can feel a surge of the same panic rise within him – but then the doors give way and the _Enterprise_ glides through them, unimpeded.

“We have cleared space doors,” Sulu says.

Jim beams. “Full impulse power!”

“Aye.”

“ _Vengeance_ closing to four thousand meters, sir,” Spock says.

“Scotty, we’ll need everything you have.”

“Aye, sir. Warp drive standing by.”

Suddenly, there is a stranger’s voice on the comm. “Kirk, this is Captain Styles in command of the USS _Vengeance_. Surrender the ship immediately.”

“He sounds friendly,” Jim says to Spock, who practically scowls at the ceiling in lieu of Styles.

Uhura is furiously punching buttons on her board. “I can’t seem to block their signal, sir, I’m sorry.”

“Kirk,” Styles’ voice can be heard again. “If you do this, you’ll never sit in the captain’s chair again.”

Jim straightens and gives the order. “Warp speed.”

“Aye, sir,” Sulu says. “Warp speed.”

There is the familiar pull of acceleration as the _Enterprise_ goes into warp. Earth and the _Vengeance_ disappear behind them in a blur of light and colors.

They did it. They managed to achieve the impossible. Jim can feel his shoulders sagging in relief.

“Scotty, as good as your word.”

“Aye, sir.”

“I hate to be a spoilsport, but haven’t we already been here?” Bones says. “The _Vengeance_ has transwarp capabilities! She’ll be onto us in seconds!”

“Scotty?”

“All taken care of, sir. The more they overthink the plumbing, the easier it is to stop up the drain.”

“What?” Bones asks, bewildered.

Scotty pulls a couple of intricate-looking engine parts out of nowhere. “Here, doctor. Souvenirs from one surgeon to another. I took them out of the _Vengeance_ ’s main transwarp computer drive.”

Bones gapes at the items in Scotty’s hands and turns to Jim with a scowl. “Nice of you to tell me in advance.”

“I told you to be more trusting, didn’t I?”

Jim ignores Bones’ muttering and gets up to look at each of his officers in turn. “My friends, your work today has been outstanding. I intend to recommend you all for promotion…in whatever fleet we end up serving.” He takes a moment to collect himself. “Best speed ahead. Keep scanning for vessels in pursuit. Mr. Sulu, you have the conn.”

“Aye, sir,” Sulu says and takes his place in the captain’s chair.

*~*~*

As soon as Jim has left the bridge and stepped into the turbolift, he can feel the adrenaline oozing out of him like water out of a drainpipe. The events of the day are finally catching up with him; he feels exhausted and leans against the turbolift wall for support.

Styles’ words are still ringing in his ears. _If you do this, you’ll never sit in the captain’s chair again_.

Jim knew the risk when he proposed this mission, he knew the price he would probably have to pay for following his gut and breaking Khan out, but the reality of it hadn’t sunk in yet. Now it does, and it fills Jim with stone-cold dread. What is he going to do if he isn’t allowed to captain a starship anymore? Starfleet has given him a new life, a home, a purpose. Without it, he’ll be back to wasting away in bars, lost and adrift, on course for self-destruction. Squashed by the shadow of a man he never got to know.

Jim’s thoughts are still full of court-martials and dishonorable discharges when the turbolift comes to a halt on Deck 5. Jim exits and walks down the deserted, dimly-lit corridor until he reaches his quarters.

As soon as the door opens, Jim can tell that something is wrong.

“Lights,” he orders and freezes when the room remains dark. He curses himself for not bringing his phaser, but who could have anticipated trouble aboard the _Enterprise_ when they’ve just left Spacedock? Could someone from the _Vengeance_ have beamed onto their ship without any of the scanners picking up on it?

Jim crouches and takes a few steps along the wall, senses honed to register anything out of the ordinary. He is about to venture deeper into the room when he hears a familiar sound — the steady trickle of water. The shower in his bathroom is running.

Could just be a ruse though, an attempt to lure him in the wrong direction while the intruder is sneaking up on him from behind. Jim takes another look around, his eyes fighting to pierce the darkness.

There’s another sound from the bathroom and this time, Jim is sure that someone is in there. He gropes his way along the wall until he has reached the door. It opens for him with barely a sound.

The first thing Jim notices is that all the mirrors are steamed up; the water from the shower must be scorching. There is a pile of orange cloth lying discarded on the floor. It looks distinctly like the jumpsuit that Khan wore when they –

Jim’s breath catches in his throat. He raises his eyes to the shower stall.

The sight that greets him goes straight to Jim’s cock.

Khan is standing under the spray, completely naked. His eyes are closed as he lets the rivulets of water run over his head, his shoulders and his well-defined pecs. Jim’s eyes wander lower over a taut stomach adorned with a trail of dark hair leading down to a beautifully shaped (and impressively large) cock.

Jim is aware that he is gaping when suddenly Khan opens his eyes and looks right at him. Water is still dripping down his face.

The unforgiving stare is the last straw. Jim is hard in his pants in a matter of seconds. It takes him a few tries to voice the question that’s at the forefront of his mind.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Khan reaches behind himself and turns the water off. “The quarters you assigned to me only came with a sonic shower. I don’t care much for them,” he says as if that explained anything.

Jim takes a step closer. “So what — you thought you could just break into my quarters and help yourself? How did you even make it out of your room? I had Scotty install the most sophisticated locking mechanism Starfleet engineers have come up with. Spock couldn’t even get out of it!”

“Please, Kirk. Do you really want me to state the obvious? I _am_ smarter and more skilled than anyone aboard this ship, even your precious Vulcan.”

Khan steps out of the shower stall and takes a towel from the rack beside it. Jim can’t prevent his eyes from tracing the lines of Khan’s body, his mouth watering against his will.

Jim’s interest is not lost on Khan if his self-satisfied smirk is anything to go by. He makes a show out of toweling off, flexing his muscles ostentatiously.

“Impressed, Captain?”

Jim wouldn’t have thought it possible that Khan’s voice could slip into an even deeper register, but it has, and it does nothing for Jim’s composure. He clenches his hands and closes his eyes to steady himself.

“Why are you here?”

“Oh Captain, I think we both know the answer to that.”

Khan is suddenly standing much closer than before; Jim would only have to raise his arm to touch him. His scent is overwhelming at this distance.

“Enlighten me,” Jim manages to say though his voice is wavering.

Khan takes another step closer. Their feet are almost touching now and Jim can feel the Omega’s breath on his face when he speaks.

“I came to thank you, Captain. You freed me. You risked your career and those of your crew to break me out of prison. This kind of heroism warrants a reward.”

Jim swallows hard. “A reward?”

Khan nods, raising a hand to touch the side of Jim’s neck and run a thumb along his cheek. Khan’s skin is burning. It feels like his fingers are sending electric shocks through Jim’s whole body. He can barely prevent himself from leaning into the touch.

“Have you dreamt about this, Kirk? To mark me, to take me, to make me yours? To knot me so I’ll be feeling it for days on end?”

A shiver runs through Jim at the words. He can’t remember ever being this hard.

“Tell me what you want,” Khan goes on, still in that low, seductive voice of his. “My hand? My mouth? Or…” Khan intertwines his free hand with Jim’s and guides it down to cup the swell of his ass. Jim’s knees go weak at the sensation.

To hell with it. He has never had much capacity for self-denial and he is not going to start now.  

In one fell swoop, Jim lunges forward and smashes their lips together. Khan jerks in surprise but quickly contains himself, responding to the onslaught by opening his mouth and doing some probing of his own. Khan gives as good as he gets, their tongues locked in a sensual battle, neither of them giving an inch.

It all changes when Jim starts to touch Khan, runs a hand along his side, over his stomach, rubs his nipples. Khan practically melts against him and moans into Jim’s mouth, his growing hard-on pressing against Jim’s thigh. Jim lets his hand travel lower until it closes around Khan’s cock, which is already leaking. Jim begins to stroke it, can feel it swelling under his touch, and Khan shuddering against him, lost in pleasure –

This, however, is where it ends. Khan suddenly pulls away, eyes wide with horror, and shakes his head. “No…no, no…”

Jim is far too drowsy to make sense of what is happening. “Khan, what –?”

Khan hastily picks up the fallen towel from the floor and wraps it around his hips, his breath coming in short gasps.

“Khan!”

Jim takes a step closer, but Khan raises a hand as if to ward him off. Before Jim can get another word in, Khan has slipped out of the bathroom and has practically fled his quarters. The door slides shut behind him, leaving Jim achingly hard and more confused about the situation than he ever was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Happy Series 3 everyone! :)


	5. Part Three (3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY. This long hiatus was completely unintentional and there were times when I thought I wouldn't be able to finish this story at all. But I'm back now and updates will _hopefully_ come quicker. I won't bore you with excuses - RL, blah blah - just add that this is going to be the last WiP I'm ever going to post before it's finished. I clearly suck at them. ;) 
> 
> The chapter count has gone up again - it was that or not being able to update until Christmas - and I keep on borrowing from the Original _Star Trek_ Movies. You'll recognize a nod to _Wrath of Khan_ in this chapter. 
> 
> Many thanks to my fast-as-lightning beta [JayEz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JayEz/pseuds/JayEz) and my new beta [NurseDarry](http://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/pseuds/NurseDarry)! You guys rock! 
> 
> And now...enjoy! :D

Jim scrapes together four hours of sleep and wakes up with a splitting headache. Memories of the night before are flooding his mind as soon as he is half aware: Khan stepping out of his shower stall like some Greek god descended from heaven, water droplets clinging to his skin. The taste of him on Jim’s tongue, the velvety feeling of Khan’s length in his hand, pulsing, growing, hardening…

And then, like a blow to the gut, Khan breaking off contact and staring at Jim as though he was the devil incarnate.

Jim rubs a hand over his face. He still can’t make sense of it, can’t tell what prompted the sudden switch in Khan’s attitude, how they went from _Ohgodyespleasemore_ to “Don’t touch me!” in two seconds flat. Jim must have done something wrong, something he was not aware of at the time. It’s the only explanation he has been able to come up with.

Shaking his head to clear it, Jim finally drags himself out of bed and stumbles into the bathroom, where his eyes are instantly drawn to the orange cloth still lying on the floor. He does his best to ignore it while he shaves and showers, determinedly not jacking off to the memory of Khan’s hands tracing his skin. Considering how the evening went Jim feels he hasn’t earned the right to. 

His uniform shirt still smells of Khan. When he puts on his pants he notices that they’re stained with tiny traces of pre-come. Jim curses under his breath and grabs a fresh pair from the closet.

A look at his computer monitor tells him it’s high time to relieve Sulu, but first he has to stop by medbay to cajole Bones into giving him something for his headache. Otherwise he’ll never make it through the day.

When Jim arrives in medbay he is surprised to find not only McCoy there, but Spock as well. The Vulcan has his tricorder out and is taking readings of one of the cryotubes stacked neatly along the back wall.

“Is there a problem?” Jim asks.

“Nothing to worry about, at least not yet,” Bones says. “I was getting some weird data when I did a bio scan of our frozen supermen earlier, so I asked Spock to lend a hand. Maybe he can make sense of it.”

Jim’s eyebrows shoot up – Bones must really be out of his depth if he is willing to ask _Spock_ for help.

“All right. Keep me posted.”

“Will do.” Bones gives him a quick once-over. “What’s wrong with you? You look like you wrestled with a Gorn.”

“I overslept. It happens,” Jim tries to deflect, but Bones is having none of it.

“Poppycock! I can tell from here that you have a headache the size of the Mississippi. Hold on.”

Bones walks over to a cabinet and comes back with a hypospray.  

“So what’s up?” he asks while he empties the hypospray into Jim’s blood stream. The effect is instantaneous – merciful relief floods Jim’s system as the pounding in his head slowly ebbs away.

With a grateful look at Bones, Jim leans against an empty bio bed. “Khan came by my quarters last night.”

“Didn’t take him long to break that unbreakable lock, did it? Told you that would happen.”

“Yeah, well.” Jim shrugs.

“So what did he want? He didn’t threaten you or anything, did he?”

“Don’t be stupid. No, he came by to…to _thank_ me.”

“To thank you? That’s a new one. And then what?”

Jim is aware that he is squirming, but he can’t help it, not when Spock is undoubtedly listening in to their conversation from across the room. Still, he is desperate enough for Bones’ input to push aside his sensibilities for now.

“He kind of…came on to me.”

One of Bones’ eyebrows slowly rises until it practically disappears into his hairline. “Did he now? Oh, don’t tell me, I know how this ends. You said that you wanted to take things slowly and turned him down, didn’t you? You chivalrously denied yourself, and that’s why you’re in such a state this morning.” He winks at Jim, who gives him his best scowl.

“There wasn’t much I could do,” he defends himself. “He was practically all over me! How was I supposed to know he didn’t mean any of it, that he wasn’t –” Jim breaks off. The memory of Khan’s rejection still stings, for more than one reason.

Bones grin fades. “So what happened?”

“I… I’m not really sure. All I know is that one minute we were kissing and everything was fine, and the next he was pushing me away and looking at me as though...” Jim heaves as sigh. “He _liked_ it, Bones. I’m sure of it. And then all of a sudden –” The expression on Khan’s face still haunts him, a mixture of horror, revulsion, and fear that makes Jim’s stomach clench. “I didn’t mean to, Bones. I never wanted to hu–”

“Stop. Stop it right there, Jim. It’s no use guilt-tripping yourself over something that you can’t even figure out the reason for. Sounds to me like Khan got in a little over his head.”

“You really think so?”

“Uh-huh. You’ve got to tread carefully with this one, Jim. There’s no telling what effect the kind of trauma Khan experienced would have on an augment’s system. It’s never been recorded. Hell, I doubt it has ever _happened_ before, seeing as they are very nearly invincible.”

Jim nods, mulling it over. He still doesn’t get why Khan would come on to him in the first place, after everything he went through with Marcus. But maybe that’s something he should try to find out.

“I’m off to the bridge. Thanks for the…” Jim waves his hand to indicate the hypospray as well as their conversation.

“Any time,” Bones says, grabbing a tricorder and joining Spock in front of the cryotubes.

                                                                                              *~*~*                                                                 

The bridge is quiet when Jim gets there. While Sulu looks alert and rested as though they just took off ( _how does he_ do _that?_ Jim wonders), Uhura’s head is drooping dangerously close to her control board. Spock’s station is empty, of course, and Scotty has most likely joined Keenser in Engineering.

“Lieutenant Uhura, signal Ensign Chekov and have him relieve you. I’m sure he’s had a good rest by now.”

For a moment, Uhura looks as though she might want to argue, but then she lets out a resigned sigh and turns back to her board.

“Aye, sir.”

“Status, Mr. Sulu.”

“ETA seventeen hours, thirty-five minutes at present speed. No signs of vessels in pursuit. We’ve adjusted our course to avoid all Starbases on the way.”

“What about our warp signature?”

“Still disguised, sir. The sub-routine Mr. Spock installed is working perfectly.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sulu. You’re dismissed. Get some sleep, I’ll take it from here.”

Sulu nods and is just about to vacate his seat when a comm signal cuts through the quiet. Jim steps up to the captain’s chair and presses the intercom button.

“Mr. Sulu, Scott here,” Scotty’s voice resonates through the speakers. “Is the Captain back on the bridge yet?”

“I’m right here, Scotty,” Jim says. “What’s up?”

“I’m having trouble with one of the inertial dampers. Could you come down here a minute?”

Jim glances at Sulu, who has already sat back down at the helm.

“Go on, Captain. I’ll be okay for a bit.”

Jim squeezes Sulu’s shoulder and turns back to the intercom. “On my way, Scotty.”

*~*~*

To Jim’s surprise, the first person he comes across in engineering is not Scotty, but none other than Khan. He is bent over the railing that lines the warp core, scrutinizing a PADD in his hand with such intensity that Jim is surprised the whole thing doesn’t burst into flames at the look.

Khan is wearing the exact same outfit he had on back in the brig when Jim first came to talk to him: a tight combination of black pants and shirt that hugs him like a second skin and leaves little to the imagination. Jim has to swallow as Khan shifts against the railing, bringing the well-rounded swell of his ass into even better focus.

That’s when Khan spots him there and freezes. There is wariness in his eyes; he squares his shoulders and gives Jim a careful once-over. Jim is uncomfortably aware that his thoughts are probably written all over his face, and mentally slaps himself to get his mind out of the gutter.  

He needn’t have bothered with appearances though, for after his initial reaction, Khan drops his gaze to the PADD in his hand and doesn’t look at him again. His expression is entirely unreadable to Jim but the mere fact that Khan won’t meet his eyes has him on edge. Flashes of the night before are surging through his mind. The situation is fast approaching awkward.

“What’s all this?” Jim asks, indicating the PADD in Khan’s hand while keeping his tone deliberately playful. It’s a lame attempt to lighten the mood, but it’s all Jim can come up with at the spur of the moment.

Khan clears his throat and opens his mouth to reply, but in that instant Scotty suddenly materializes around a corner and starts talking as soon as he spots them.

“Captain! Good of you to drop by. I’ve just finished a preliminary systems sweep. Would have preferred to have it done in Spacedock, but with our speedy departure –”

“I get it, Mr. Scott.”

“There’s something I think you should see. I noticed that the inertial dampers are a wee bit sluggish. We could be in for a bumpy ride next time we go into warp.”

Scotty all but grabs Jim’s arm to drag him over to the port side, flooding him with information. Jim lets himself be swept away − this is what he came here for, after all, and judging by Scotty’s level of agitation it might even be important – but he can’t help feeling a prickling at the back of his neck as though a pair of hooded eyes were watching him from across the room.

“I must say I wasn’t sure at first, when you sent Khan down here to help,” Jim suddenly catches Scotty saying in a low voice. “But he’s really come through. We’ve managed to recalibrate the sensor array and fine-tune the plasma injectors, all in the space of a morning!”

Jim struggles to keep the surprise from showing on face. “Well, that’s…fantastic. I guess it’s a good thing I ordered him down here then.”

“It sure is.  Now where’s that coil spanner?” And with that, Scotty is off again to parts of engineering seemingly known only to him.

Jim ambles over to where Khan still appears to be deeply absorbed in the readings from the warp core. He leans against the railing and crosses his arms in front of his chest, studying the other man with interest. Khan, meanwhile, doesn’t give any indication that he is aware of him.

“ _I_ sent you down here to lend a hand?” Jim finally asks.

Khan doesn’t look up from his PADD. “I thought I might make myself useful.”

“You really don’t understand the concept of being confined to quarters, do you?”

“This is a far better use of my time than twiddling my thumbs in that shoebox of a room you assigned to me,” Khan says through clenched teeth. “Don’t tell me you can’t use my expertise.”

“That’s not the point though, is it?” Jim asks. He can feel his headache returning and pinches the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to make sense of the situation. “Khan, what’s this all about?”

“As I said, I thought I could make myself useful. You are going to want payment for your actions on my behalf sooner or later, and I’d much prefer –”

“Hold on – payment? What are you talking about?”

Khan turns to look at him at last, a sneer marring his features. “Oh, _please_. Do you expect me to believe that you risked your life and those of your crew simply out of the kindness of your heart? Everything in the world has a price, Kirk. I’d rather know the price of this –” he gestures at the engine room as if to encompass their current situation “– before you come to collect.”

Jim can feel his jaw dropping as it suddenly hits him what Khan’s behavior has been all about.

“Is that why you came by my quarters last night? Because you think I’d want _payment_?” Jim’s heart is racing as he puts the pieces together. “You think this is some sort of sick _quid pro quo_ where I do something nice for you, only to exploit your gratitude? Who do you think I am?”

“You’re an Alpha, Kirk. In my experience, the Alphas of your world take what they want and don’t bother with the consequences. So stop this heroic knight-in-shining-armor act and _tell me what you want from me_ already!”

Jim finds himself trembling with rage, his anger easily matching Khan’s. He takes a step closer, right into Khan’s personal space. “What I want is for justice to be served. What I want is for Starfleet Command to get off their high horse and admit that they were harboring a criminal in their ranks. What I certainly _don’t_ want is to blackmail you into submission, especially not when it comes to −”

He stops himself before he can utter the words; neither of them needs to hear them out aloud. Jim’s mind still insists on supplying him with the images though  – Khan on his knees, paying off his ‘debt’ to Marcus in a way that makes Jim’s stomach turn with revulsion, Khan writhing under Marcus’s naked body, helpless to defend himself lest he endanger the lives of his crew. It’s such a sickening scenario that Jim presses a palm against his eyes, desperate to get rid of the images.

“Like it or not, you’re a victim in all of this, Khan,” he says quietly, not looking up.

“I’m not anyone’s _victim_ ,” Khan grinds out.

“Think what you must. But let’s get one thing straight. You don’t have to repay me for anything. What I did I would have done for anyone. Starfleet Command was going to turn you into a scapegoat for Marcus’s crimes, and that’s not something I am going to allow.”

At the mention of the admiral’s name, Khan visibly flinches. Jim is itching to reach out, to offer some sort of comfort, but he resolutely restrains himself. Something tells him his sympathy wouldn’t be welcome.

“You can’t tell me that you don’t want something out of this,” Khan insists, stubborn to the last.

Jim sighs. “I’ve just told you. And it’s not as if I’m simply letting you go. You’re still going to have to stand trial back on Earth. You can thank me once you’ve heard the verdict − if you still feel like it then.” He smirks at Khan, whose scowl, to Jim’s surprise, loses some of its edge.

Khan studies the PADD in his hand as though searching for his next line. “Am I still forbidden to walk around this vessel?” he finally asks, looking up at Jim through his lashes.

Jim considers the question, taken aback by the deference in it. It’s true that an augment’s knowledge and superior skills would be a tremendous asset to his crew, especially considering how short-handed they are at the moment. On the other side, he just confirmed to Khan that he was still their prisoner. Wouldn’t it serve as a better reminder to have him locked up somewhere?

But Khan isn’t very likely to sabotage his own rescue mission, is he? It’d be foolish of him to alienate Jim and his crew by initiating some sort of hostile take-over. No, chances are that Khan’s request is just as genuine as it sounds – a cure for boredom.

“Very well. Stay here and work with Scotty. He seems to have taken a liking to you.”

Jim grins at the indignant look on Khan’s face, as though the mere idea of anyone actually _liking_ him was too big a dent in his reputation.

“I trust you to adhere to the established rules of conduct on this vessel,” he adds, just to make sure.

Jim gets an affirming nod in response but no _thank you_ – that was too much to hope for, he guesses. Chuckling silently to himself, Jim turns away from Khan and heads for the bridge.

 *~*~*

It takes exactly eighteen hours for Jim to regret his decision to leave Khan running free on his ship.

The _Enterprise_ has just entered the Mutara Nebula, an interstellar dust cloud located at the edge of Klingon space. This is where they are going to take up temporary residence until they decide what to do about Starfleet Command.

The nebula makes for an ideal hiding place. It contains high levels of static discharge, which, combined with a plethora of ionized gases, renders sensors and shields inoperable – theirs as well as any possible pursuers’. If a ship were to follow them, their only way to spot the _Enterprise_ would be visually via viewscreen, a foolhardy attempt and one Jim is quite sure no other Starfleet Captain but himself would be reckless enough to risk. 

Jim just gave the order to switch to emergency lights when he gets a call from a harassed-sounding Bones, who asks him to come to medbay right away. Jim’s mind immediately jumps to the worst of conclusions – has Scotty been injured? Or is it Spock? Bones didn’t give any specifics – while he hurries into the turbolift and makes his way down.

“What happened?” Jim asks as soon as the door to medbay has opened in front of him.

It is indeed Scotty who he finds sitting on one of the bio beds, sporting an impressively large black eye. Keenser is there right beside him, looking up at Scotty with a mixture of worry and worship on his oddly-shaped face, while Bones tends to the bruise with a dermal regenerator.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Bones says as soon as he spots Jim. “Just some tissue damage. He’ll be good as new in a couple of hours.”

“What happened?” Jim asks again, still lacking anything resembling an explanation. That’s when he realizes that Khan is also present – he is hovering near one of the medical cabinets, arms crossed in front of his chest and wearing a look that Jim is tempted to call ‘contrite’.

It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots.

“What happened?” Jim asks a third time, making sure to let his anger bleed through. He throws Khan a dirty look to indicate that he has a very good idea of how his chief engineer got hurt. Jim is just about to round on the augment when a voice from behind stops him in his tracks.

“It was an accident, Captain.” Scotty’s accent sounds even thicker than usual due to the pain he must be in. “It wasn’t his fault.” He flinches when Bones’ fingers touch him in a particularly sore spot.

“How can _this_ –” Jim gestures to the rapidly healing bruise “– have been an accident?”

Scotty’s eyes swivel to where Khan is standing. The augment hasn’t moved a muscle. It’s as though he is waiting to be judged, his back rigid, his jaw clenched tight.

“Mr. Scott, I need a full report!”

“Aye, sir.” Scotty sighs. “Well, I was working on the inertial dampers and Khan and Keenser were over by one of the plasma conduits, when I heard shouting. I ran over to have a look and I saw that Khan –”  Another flicker in Khan’s direction “–  that he had his hands around Keenser’s neck and was strangling him. I panicked and tried to pull Khan off and that’s when he got me in the face with his elbow. It was my fault, Captain, I shouldn’t have crept up on him like that. The minute he realized what he’d done Khan let go of Keenser and brought me here.”

“How is any of this your fault?” Jim asks, still seething. “It was him who attacked Keenser!” He points a finger at Khan, making no attempt to involve him in the conversation.

“Keenser bumped into him from behind,” Scotty explains, his tone unnervingly apologetic. “Didn’t look where he was going. It was just instinct, you know. A reflex.”

“Are you in the habit of jumping every person who bumps into you, Mr. Scott?”

Scotty grimaces and looks down.

“I didn’t think so. And neither does anyone else.”

“Jim.” Bones puts down the dermal regenerator and steps closer, addressing him in a low voice. “Let’s talk about this. In my office.”

Jim throws Bones an angry look and is about to brush him off when he notices the honest concern on his friend’s face. Something seems to be up, something crucial. Bones points to the door of his office and, after a moment’s consideration, Jim follows his lead.

The door closes behind them and Bones leans against the edge of his desk, a pensive look on his face.

“Care to tell me what this is all about?” Jim prompts when Bones stays silent.

Bones heaves a sigh. “I didn’t want to discuss this in front of the others. From what I can tell, Khan had a panic attack, plain and simple. He was startled and lashed out. Keenser must have bumped into him in a moment when his defenses were down and he least expected it.”

“What?” Jim asks, bewildered. The idea that Khan, with all his superior strength and capabilities, should be able to experience the amount of fear necessary to provoke a full-blown panic attack seems absurd.

“Khan’s an augment,” Jim says. “And you’re telling me he had some sort of nervous breakdown?”

“Stranger things have happened.” Bones walks around the desk and lets himself fall into his chair. “Jim, I think we have to face the fact that our resident Superman is exhibiting symptoms of PTSD.”

Jim’s heart skips a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I had a hunch this morning when you told me how strangely Khan acted in your quarters – it doesn’t make much sense unless seen in the context of post-traumatic stress. His recent behavior confirms it. Khan’s trauma is sexual in nature. It’s only reasonable to assume that kissing you triggered some sort of flashback to his experiences with Marcus, even if Khan was the one who initiated it this time. And I don’t think I need to tell you that jumpiness and a propensity for panic attacks are other classic signs to look out for in a person suffering from PTSD.”

Jim lets out the breath he was holding and sinks down into one of the vacant chairs, his heart beating in his throat. What Bones just told him doesn’t fit in at all with the façade Khan has been trying to put on — the appearance that he is in control of the situation, that he has his feelings under wraps, that what Marcus did to him doesn’t affect him anymore. It’s slowly becoming obvious that Khan’s wounds run a lot deeper than he lets on.

Jim’s fury at Khan for attacking Scotty has entirely evaporated by now. What he’s left with is deep concern – for Khan mostly, but also for his crew. As if having an augment on board wasn’t risky enough, they were now harboring an augment with PTSD – a potentially unstable killing machine. What would have happened if Scotty hadn’t been there to rescue Keenser? What if anything like this were to happen again while they were out here, on the run from Starfleet and all on their own? It was a chilling thought.

“How can you help Khan?” Jim asks, giving voice to his most pressing concern.

Bones lets out a sigh. “I wish it were that simple, Jim. If this were any other human, I’d prescribe a mild antidepressant and behavioral therapy to get over the worst of the symptoms. But in this case?” He runs a hand over his face. “Technically, an augment’s body has the ability to heal itself. Psychological trauma like the kind Khan experienced often leaves physiological damage in its wake: it disrupts the victim’s brain chemistry, particularly that of the amygdala and the hippocampus, so that parts of the information can’t be properly processed anymore. That’s why memory loss is so common among survivors. But in Khan’s case, with his enhanced metabolism and cognitive functions? There’s no telling how his body is going to deal with the effects on his limbic system. Frankly, I’m reluctant to mess with anything that’s going on in that giant head of his. It might do more harm than good.”

Jim takes a moment to mull over the information. “So basically, you can’t do anything for him.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“So what do you expect _me_ to do? I have a responsibility to this crew. If Khan is a threat to them because of his condition –”

“Then lock him up again. Confine him to quarters. But don’t punish him for a simple biological reaction. He wasn’t in control of his faculties when he attacked Keenser.”

Jim sighs. This is getting more and more complicated, for reasons he hadn’t anticipated at all when he started out on this mission. How is he supposed to deal with a genetically engineered superhuman who suffered such severe psychological trauma that it seems to have overpowered even his highly-evolved defenses?

“I’m not a counselor,” Jim says. “This isn’t exactly my comfort zone.”

“Just go with your gut,” Bones says, looking intently at him from across the desk. “It has never failed you before. From what I can tell, you’re the one Khan listens to. He respects you.  Oh, don’t look at me like that, you know he does.”

 _Is that all?_ a small voice inside Jim’s head wonders. _Just respect for a fellow commander?_ After the talk he had with Khan in engineering, Jim is almost inclined to believe it. _Payment_ , Khan said. Nothing but payment.

Did he just imagine Khan responding to his touch with as much desire as Khan ignited in him?

Jim becomes aware that his thoughts are straying and quickly gets up, thanking Bones for filling him in and receiving a heartfelt “Good luck” in return.

When Jim re-enters medbay, he notices that Keenser has joined Scotty on the bio bed, the two of them deep in conversation. Jim overhears just enough to figure out that they are talking about something engineering-related while he scans the room for its third occupant.

He spots Khan standing next to the cryotubes stacked along the far wall. The augment is studying the containers with a wistful expression on his face, one hand outstretched as if he meant to touch them but didn’t quite dare.

For the first time, Jim fully appreciates that Khan had a close relationship with each and every one of those seventy-two men and women. _Family_ , he called them. What must it have been like for Khan to wake up in this century, only to discover that he had to get by without the people he holds most dear? Jim can only imagine what it would feel like if Bones, Spock, or any of the others were lying there frozen, impossible for him to reach or ask for advice. The thought alone makes his throat constrict.   

“Khan, you’re with me,” Jim says eventually, startling Khan out of his reverie.

It’s only now that Jim realizes how pale Khan is, much more so than usual. The guilty look still hasn’t left his face, and he follows Jim in silence.

Jim leads them through an empty corridor and into the turbolift, where they stand side by side, not looking at each other. Khan clasps his hands behind his back and clears his throat before he finally addresses Jim.

“It was not my intention to violate our agreement, Captain. I…apologize for my actions against your crew, and am prepared to receive whatever punishment you deem appropriate.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?” Jim smiles at Khan, desperate to chase that haunted look off his face. “According to Dr. McCoy, you weren’t quite yourself during the attack.”

Khan raises an eyebrow. “I assure you, Captain, that I am in full command of my faculties. There is no reason to assume otherwise.”

“So I _should_ throw you in the brig for assaulting one of my senior officers?” Jim jokes, leading the way out of the now stationary turbolift onto Deck 5. He can see Khan tense out of the corner of his eye and quickly adds, “Relax. No one is getting punished tonight. I do, however, have to restrict you to quarters – and I mean it this time, Khan.”

A pause. “I understand.”

Khan still looks downtrodden. Jim casts his mind around for something to say, anything to ease the weight off Khan’s shoulders, but he comes up empty. The feeling that he is somehow responsible for Khan, not only for his physical safety but also his emotional well-being, startles him in its intensity.

It’s as if he has taken on much more than just a wronged felon and his bid for justice when he freed Khan from prison. He now also has to make sure that the damage Marcus – an Alpha just like Jim – inflicted on this particular Omega is not going to have any lasting repercussions. But how to get his point across without violating any of the dozens of boundaries that Khan seems to have erected since he set foot on this ship?

Jim is still pondering the puzzle when they reach Khan’s quarters and stop in front of the door. Khan is looking expectedly at him, driving it home to Jim just how little he knows how to proceed from here.

“Can you sleep?” Jim suddenly finds himself asking. Maybe it was Bones’ lecture earlier, but Jim just remembered that sleeplessness and nightmares are another common symptom of PTSD. It sounds like the worst opening line ever and Jim cringes inwardly at his clumsy attempt at nurturing. He’s clearly not a natural at this.

Khan looks at him as if he had just grown horns. “What?”

Oh well. In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Have you been able to sleep?” Jim asks. “You know, since… Since we brought you back to Earth.” Khan certainly didn’t get much sleep during his last stay on the _Enterprise,_ after they picked him up on Qo’noS.

“I don’t see how this is any of your bus –”

“Just answer the question. Have you been sleeping?”

Khan shifts on his feet. The truth is written all over him, in his restlessness and the way he avoids Jim’s eyes. “Augments do not require as much sleep as humans do. We can cope for up to three days without –”

“But you _do_ need to sleep, don’t you?” Jim insists.

“Yes.”

“And you haven’t. Been sleeping.”

Khan swallows. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, it does to me. You’re on my ship now and therefore my responsibility.”

That earns him another raised eyebrow. “I am fully capable of looking after myself, Captain.”

“Is that why my chief engineer is currently being treated in medbay?”

Khan purses his lips. “That was not –”

Jim waves the apology aside; it’s not what he was after. He decides to try a different approach.

“There’s no shame in accepting a little help now and again, Khan. It’s why we’ve evolved to live in groups, you know.” Jim doesn’t let himself be deterred by Khan’s answering snort. “What you went through is too much for any one person to handle. You don’t have to deal with this all by yourself.”

It’s more than Jim wanted to say out loud, but maybe Khan actually needed to hear it, for the expected denial never comes. Instead, Khan lets his gaze wander across the corridor as if searching for an anchor, something to tether himself to.

“I’m an augment,” he finally says in a rough voice. “I’m designed to be superior. I’m not supposed to −”

“What? Break down? Have emotions? Let something bother you? Newsflash: you’re human. And you’ve experienced things no human should ever have to endure. You can’t expect yourself to simply turn around and move on.” _You were_ pregnant _, for god’s sake_ , Jim longs to say, but he bites his tongue.

Khan’s hands have balled into fists at his side. “I should be stronger. I should be capable enough to overcome this.”

It’s as close a reference to his own vulnerability as Jim has ever heard him utter, and the self-disgust in the augment’s voice cuts him to the bone.

Khan apparently feels that he has said too much for he quickly looks away and lifts his hand to unlock the door.

Jim almost doesn’t catch it – it’s visible only for the blink of an eye as Khan’s fingers touch the keypad – but as soon as he does, he snatches Khan’s wrist and turns over his hand. Khan’s answering growl is predictable, as is the flashing of his eyes, but Jim doesn’t pay it any heed – he is too busy examining the dozen or so cuts in the palm of Khan’s hand. It looks like he grabbed at a pile of glass splinters. Some of the cuts have already closed, leaving an intricate webbing of thin white scars behind; others have clearly bled a lot more and stand out stark red against the paleness of Khan’s skin.

“How did this happen?” Jim asks, unable to hide his dismay, but the answer comes to him all by itself. Keenser, of course. Scotty told them that Khan had strangled Keenser in engineering. The alien’s sharp-edged skin scales must have cut into Khan’s hands. This also explains why Keenser wasn’t hurt at all by the attack.

“You should have let Dr. McCoy take a look at that,” Jim says, frowning.  

“It will heal on its own.”

“These have to hurt. Augments do feel pain, don’t they?”

Khan flinches and Jim feels instantly sorry for his flippancy. Shaking it off he makes his way through the open door, dragging Khan with him by the hand which is still clutched tightly in his own.

“What are you doing?” Khan asks, wide-eyed, but he lets himself be led into the small bathroom adjacent to the living space.

“There’s got to be an emergency kit in here. Hang on.” Jim lets go off Khan’s hand and starts rummaging in the drawers.

“I told you, I don’t need –”

“And I told you to shut up and let people help you, didn’t I?” Jim says, digging out the first-aid kit with a satisfied hum. There are a number of bandages in it, but Jim ignores them in favor of a small dermal regenerator, sort of a miniature version of the one Bones was using on Scotty.

Jim takes hold of Khan’s hand again and switches on the device. “If I don’t do this, Bones will never let me hear the end of it.”

Khan draws in a sharp breath but holds perfectly still while Jim starts working on the cuts. Jim has only ever watched Bones use a dermal regenerator, so his aim is a little unsteady at first. He takes care to direct the sensor over the open wounds, starting with the smaller ones and working his way up. To Jim’s relief, they seal up nicely, and soon the ones he took care of are of the same color and texture as the ones that closed on their own.

“Other hand,” Jim says and looks up to see that Khan is watching him out of hooded eyes. His pupils are blown wide and his mouth is slightly open. Jim’s eyes are drawn to those lush lips and he remembers tasting them, delving into that soft mouth. At this distance, the Omega’s scent is overpowering and Jim can feel his nostrils flare to breathe it all in, to catch every last whiff –

Then Khan’s tongue darts out, wetting his lips in what is probably an unconscious movement, and whatever self-restraint Jim still possessed goes out of the window. Blood is pulsing through his groin and he can feel his cock harden. All he wants to do is to pull Khan closer, to get his mouth on every bit of skin he can reach, to bite that delicious spot where Khan’s neck meets shoulder –

But then Jim remembers what happened last night after he had given in to this exact same urge, the mixture of revulsion and fear on Khan’s face when they broke apart, and he finds himself backing off against his baser needs.

“I’m sorry,” he says, putting down the dermal regenerator and taking a cautious step back. “I didn’t mean to… I should go.”

Jim feels the loss of contact like a blow to the gut, but he forces himself to retreat to the door, which opens to reveal the dimly lit corridor.

For a moment, it looks as if Khan has half a mind to follow him. His legs are jerking in Jim’s direction and his face has taken on a longing expression, but he doesn’t say a word. Jim resolutely turns around and walks out through the door before he can change his mind.

“I was right,” Jim hears Khan say behind him, just as he is about to turn the corner. “The first time we met.”

Jim stops in his tracks. “Right about what?”

Risking a look over his shoulder, he can see that Khan is examining his newly healed hand with something akin to wonder on his face. Their eyes meet across the room and lock, making Jim’s whole body shiver, before Khan answers him.

“You do have a conscience, Kirk.”

The door closes behind Jim and he has to lean against the wall to save himself from falling.


	6. Part Three (4)

Hiding in a nebula that disrupts most of the _Enterprise_ ’s systems is probably not the best idea Jim has ever had.

Spock and Scotty had voiced their concerns when he first suggested it of course, but at the time it had seemed like their best option. Now Jim is sitting in the captain’s chair, feeling for all intents and purposes like a misbehaving student who has been called into the headmaster’s office. Bones and Spock have planted themselves in front of him wearing identical expressions of disapproval. This kind of unanimity between the two of them is certainly a first.

Bones has his arms crossed in front of his chest and Spock has his “I don’t need to blink” stare going on that drives Jim nuts at the best of times. Jim squares his shoulders to remind himself that he _is_ still the captain and tries to ignore the fact that the whole bridge crew – which to Jim’s relief consists only of Sulu and Chekov at the moment – is listening in to their conversation.

“It’s all this static discharge,” Bones says in a disgruntled tone, waving a hand at the viewscreen. “It’s interfering with the cryotubes’ systems. The technology is 200 years out of date as it is and was already acting up before we entered this cozy little nebula of yours. Now the cryogenic units are breaking down and we will have no other choice but to wake the lot of them up if we don’t want to end up with a medbay full of dead icicles.”

“I strongly recommend against waking up any more members of Khan’s crew,” Spock says. “Having one augment on board is dangerous enough. The risk of them allying against us once they are re-united –”

“No one is going to be woken up,” Jim says, cutting Spock short. “I agree, the risk is too great.”

“Then we’ve got to get the ship out of here,” Bones says emphatically. “And I mean _now_. The sooner we leave the better.”

“Where are we supposed to go?” Jim asks, frowning at Bones. “The minute we show our faces in open space again, Starfleet will be on to us. With the scanners down we won’t be able to pick up any approaching ships until after we’ve cleared the nebula. That’s one hell of a gamble.”

“Well, it’s either that or having the deaths of seventy-two frozen augments on our conscience. It’s your decision, Captain.” Bones’ expression leaves no doubt that there is only one right way in his book.

Jim considers his options. If he’s honest with himself, after two days, he’s already tired of playing hide-and-seek in a nebula. He’s just not cut out for this whole twiddling-his-thumbs business, waiting for the action to come to him. Part of Jim is itching for a fight, to dare Starfleet Command to have it out once and for all. What’s more, staring at the viewscreen and seeing nothing but static interspersed with a few blobs of pink and blue is really getting tedious. He could certainly do with a change of scenery.

But the question remains: where should they go? Their case is nowhere near strong enough yet to expose Section 31’s murky dealings, despite Uhura’s best efforts to compile a lawsuit. She is currently questioning Khan about his time at the Io Facility, hoping she can gather more evidence against the organization as a whole – provided Khan is willing to help, of course. So far, he is still refusing to testify in court.

It seems pointless to provide Starfleet Command with a target before they can be sure their case is strong enough to prove the reasoning behind Khan’s attacks on the Federation. But they can hardly risk the lives of Khan’s crew in the process, can they? Quite aside from Jim’s personal promise to Khan, these augments are human beings and as such it was his duty to protect them.

“There is an uninhabited Class M planet not far from here,” Chekov suddenly says over his shoulder. “It’s a bit inhospitable, but we would be able to hide there, at least for a little while.”

“Estimated time en route thirty-six minutes at full impulse,” Sulu adds, checking the readings on his board.

“We could hide the _Enterprise_ at the bottom of one of the oceans in the northern hemisphere,” Chekov says. “That way, even if a Starfleet ship should happen to search the planet, it would take them a while to locate us.”

“We would be visible in open space for less than forty minutes,” Sulu says, turning his chair around to face Jim. “The chances of a ship happening upon us in that time are practically zero.”

Spock opens his mouth, no doubt to spell out the exact odds, but before he can speak, there is the familiar beep of a comm signal.

“Uhura to bridge. Captain, I need you in Khan’s quarters right away.”

“This isn’t a good time, Lieutenant,” Jim says distractedly.

“Trust me,” Uhura says, sounding a little out of breath. “You are going to want to hear this.”

Jim takes a moment to consider. “Very well, I’ll be there in a few minutes. Kirk out.” When he looks up again, he can see that all four of his officers are staring at him expectedly, waiting for an answer.

Jim heaves a sigh and comes to a decision. “All right, let’s do it. Mr. Sulu, set course for that Class M planet.”

“Aye, sir,” Sulu says, swiveling his chair back. “Setting course for Ceti Alpha V. Full impulse power.”

“Mr. Chekov, keep scanners on standby. I want to know what’s going on out there as soon as we’re able to.”

“Aye, sir. Scanners will be activated the minute we’ve cleared the nebula.”

“Good. Engage.”

Jim leans back in his chair as the _Enterprise_ starts moving. Spock leaves his side to return to his station while Bones smiles broadly at him.

“You made the right choice, Jim.”

Jim grunts in response. “You know that Scotty’s going to kill me, don’t you? He wasn’t exactly thrilled the last time we took the ship under water.”

“He’ll get over it. It’s for the greater good,” Bones says with a shrug. “I’m heading down to medbay. Someone has to make sure the cryotubes stay in one piece during all this maneuvering.”

Jim nods and turns his attention to the viewscreen. He still can’t make out much except for a mash-up of static and colors crossed by the occasional lightning flash.

“Thirty seconds to open space,” Sulu announces after a few minutes and as they leave behind the last remnants of gaseous clouds, the viewscreen becomes clear again. The lights on the bridge flicker and are restored to their usual brightness setting.

“Mr. Chekov, what are the scanners showing?”

“No other vessels in the area, no signs of Starfleet activity. Our path to Ceti Alpha V is clear.”

“Good. Stay on course. Mr. Spock, you have the conn. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Jim is still pondering how to break the news of their underwater dive to Scotty when he enters Khan’s quarters a few minutes later. He finds Uhura sitting at a small desk to the left and Khan standing next to the bed with his arms crossed in front of his chest. They are both looking at him, but while Uhura’s face shows signs of relief at his arrival, Khan seems entirely closed off.

There is something in the air that makes Jim pause in his step, a tingling sensation that stirs something deep inside of him, but before he is able to identify what it could be, Uhura addresses him.

“Captain, Khan just told me something about Section 31, something I think you need to hear for yourself.”

“What is it?” Jim asks, looking at Khan, who curls his lip in disapproval.

“It’s about the Klingons,” Uhura says when Khan stays silent. “Apparently, marooning the _Enterprise_ in Klingon space armed with six dozen photon torpedoes wasn’t Marcus’s only strategy to start a war. Turns out he had something much, much worse planned.”

Uhura draws a shaky breath. She seems more rattled than Jim has ever seen her, and this is the woman who not long ago walked right into the middle of a horde of Klingons armed with nothing but her voice.

“What was he planning?” Jim asks, growing restless. “Khan, explain.”

Khan turns away and takes a few steps towards the only window in the room, a small porthole that shows nothing but the blackness of space. For some reason, Jim gets the impression that Khan wants to put distance between them, though he can’t figure out why. They haven’t even spoken since their aborted talk in Khan’s bathroom two days ago. 

Khan’s voice is hoarse when he answers and he seems miles away. “It’s called _Project Catharsis_ ,” he begins. “It was conceived some months ago while I was still at the Io Facility and subjected to regular physical exams.”

Jim frowns. What does Khan’s health have to do with anything?

“The medical staff took samples of my blood and examined it, just like your doctor did. And like him, the researchers discovered its healing properties – and something else.”

Jim can feel goosebumps erupting all over his body as he listens on.

“Section 31 had long since experimented with Klingon DNA, hoping to be able to manipulate it for their own purposes,” Khan continues. “But they could never make it work. My enhanced genes now provided them with the missing piece. Tests showed that if my augmented DNA interacted with that of a Klingon, it would cause a chain reaction in the host’s body that, after a few days, resulted in complete neural system breakdown. Marcus had found the ultimate murder weapon, and he was willing to use it.”

Khan draws a deep breath. “The question that remained was how to introduce my DNA into that of the Klingons on a wider scale. To this end, Section 31 researchers experimented with various pathogens which could be released into a planet’s atmosphere. They struck gold when they tried the process with Levodian Flu.”

“Levodian Flu?” Jim asks. “But that’s harmless!”

Khan nods. “In its original state, yes. Harmless but extremely contagious. Combined with my DNA and released into Qo’noS’ atmosphere, it would cause the deaths of millions in just a few days. The Klingons would never know what hit them.”

Jim is unable to voice the revulsion he feels at Khan’s tale. His stomach is turning just imagining the devastation this kind of mutant virus could cause.

“Jim, Project Catharsis didn’t die with Marcus,” Uhura says, her voice shaking. “According to Khan, there are other high-ranking officers in Section 31 willing to take up the slack and finish what he started. Now that Marcus’s original plan has failed, they’ll be even more willing to push for the project to be put into action. Section 31 could be working on releasing the pathogen as we speak.”

“Dammit!” Jim runs a hand across his face. His eyes fall on Khan, who is still gazing out of the porthole, seemingly unfazed by the horrors he has just revealed.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Jim asks, unable to rein in his frustration. “We could have done something. We could have gotten the Federation Council involved. They would never allow this to happen if they knew.”

Khan’s eyes snap to him. “Why wouldn’t they? I was under the impression that the Klingons were your enemies. Isn’t it in your government’s best interest to neutralize a possible invader of your territory?”

Jim is struck speechless for a moment. He rallies quickly and presses on. “Of course we have to stop them, but that doesn’t mean that we should exterminate their whole species! This is genocide!”

Khan shrugs. “Apparently it appealed to your leaders as the quickest and most efficient way to eliminate an impending threat to your people.”

“You can’t be that cold-blooded. I remember enough of Earth’s history to know that you refrained from massacres while you were in power. All the other tyrants slaughtered humans by the millions, but you didn’t. Why, if not because you abhor an excess of violence?”

Khan waves his hand dismissively. “Believe me, Kirk, my reasoning had nothing to do with the tender motives you are trying to ascribe to me. War-damaged men make for malcontent subjects. I was simply ensuring the loyalty among my people.”

Jim shakes his head, anger boiling beneath his skin. How can Khan remain so unaffected by all of this? He just stands there, cold as stone, the sheen of sweat on his forehead the only sign that he is human at all. This is worse than arguing with Spock.

“Biological warfare has been rejected as unethical by every civilized society,” Jim insists, stepping up to Khan. He has to get a reaction out of him, he just _has_ to. “Bans of such things on Earth date back as far as the 1970s. Surely you didn’t miss that.”

Khan regards him coolly, not giving an inch. “War has nothing to do with ethics. It’s about survival.”

“Now you listen to me –”

In his anger, Jim grabs Khan’s arm in order to whirl him around, to force him to see reason – only to have Khan flinch back from his touch as though stung. For a moment, they stare at each other, both breathing hard. Then Jim becomes aware of what he just did and he steps back, horrified. He doesn’t need Uhura’s shocked cry of “Captain!” to know that he just crossed a line – a line he swore to himself he would never cross.

“I’m sorry,” he says at once. “I don’t know why… I’m sorry.”

He is so deeply ashamed that he can feel blood rising in his cheeks. How the hell could he have let this happen? How could he have grabbed Khan like that after all he has learned about the augment in the past few days, after everything Bones deduced about Khan’s time with Marcus? Jim is so disgusted with himself that he drives a fist against his forehead, determined to blow away the cobwebs that seem to have taken over his brain since he arrived in Khan’s quarters.

When he chances a glance at Khan, he can see that the augment’s eyes are still wide and that his whole body is trembling. Curiously though, Khan doesn’t look angry at all – more like he is fighting very hard to keep still. He is clenching and unclenching his fists, visibly willing his body to obey. If Jim didn’t know better he’d say that Khan was swaying in Jim’s direction as if desperate to close the distance between them, yet determined not to give himself away.

What the hell did all of this mean? Was there a chance that, in spite of everything, Khan might actually return Jim’s feelings? That it was not, as Khan had suggested, mere gratitude that tied him to Jim?

But if that were true, why would Khan be hiding how he felt? Khan had to know by now that he would be kicking at an open door if he made a move on Jim. Hell, it had been evident since their first night on the _Enterprise_ that Jim would come running if Khan only said the word. So what was stopping him?

Jim can’t make head nor tail of it; it’s _yes_ one minute, _no_ the next. If Khan keeps this up, Jim is bound to get whiplash.

He is just about to voice his confusion, to find out what has Khan on edge if not his completely inappropriate touch from before, when suddenly there is a huge bang accompanied by a shockwave so powerful that the floor beneath Jim buckles and he is thrown off his feet into the nearest wall.

It takes Jim a few seconds to regain full consciousness – he has to blink to make the stars in front of his eyes disappear − but once he does, comprehension dawns and he struggles to his feet as quickly as he can.

They’ve been hit. The _Enterprise_ is under attack.

As if on cue, a siren goes off and Spock’s voice sounds through the intercom. “Red Alert. All hands to battle stations. Red Alert. Captain to the bridge.”

Jim is already out the door.

*~*~*

They are hit twice more before Jim reaches the bridge, Uhura hot on his heels. Jim rushes over to Spock, who is already rising from the captain’s chair.  

“Starfleet?” Jim asks sharply, sitting down.

“Klingons,” Spock says, who looks as unruffled as if they were encountering nothing more exciting than a meteorite. “A D5 class battle cruiser.”

“They came out of nowhere!” Chekov says defensively as if Jim had accused him of a blunder. “One minute the systems showed nothing, and the next the Klingons were just…there!”

“They must have been cloaked,” Spock says, taking up position next to Chekov and gazing at the viewscreen, which shows the Klingon ship hovering in front of them like a giant bird-of-prey. As Jim is watching, another photon torpedo is launched from the port side.

“Evasive action!” he shouts, but it’s no use. The Klingon torpedo is already detonating somewhere near the starboard nacelle.

Jim braces himself against the shockwave rocking the bridge. Once it has subsided, he addresses Spock again. “What’s our status?”

“Shields at twenty-five percent and dropping. We have lost impulse engines. Hull damage on Decks 4 and 9.”

Cursing under his breath, Jim pushes the intercom button. “Scotty, can we return fire?”

“I wouldn’t advise it, Captain,” Scotty answers after a few moments, slurring the words in his agitation. “She’s barely holding together as it is, and with the power down to a minimum, we risk losing life support if we waste what’s left of it on the weapons.”

“What about warp power? Can we make a run for it?”

“One of the warp nacelles has taken a hit. I cannot give you more than Warp 2.”

“Klingon D5 battle cruisers are capable of a maximum speed of Warp 6,” Spock says. “We won’t be able to outrun them should they decide to give chase.”

“Divert all remaining power to the shields,” Jim tells Scotty. “Buy us as much time as you can.”

“Aye, sir. But I cannot guarantee we can withstand more than the next two or three hits.”

“Acknowledged. Kirk out.”

“Incoming!” Sulu yells the second before another detonation rocks the bridge. Jim sits out the shockwave and turns to Uhura. “Hail the Klingons, Lieutenant.”

Uhura’s eyes widen before she turns to her board with a hesitant “Aye, sir”. After a few adjustments, she announces “Channel open, sir. Universal translator plugged in and ready.”

Jim takes a deep breath and sits up straighter in his chair. “Klingon vessel, this is Captain James T. Kirk in command of the starship _Enterprise_. You are trespassing on Federation territory and have launched an unprovoked attack. This could be considered an act of war. Explain yourselves.”

The bridge is quiet as everyone is waiting, the silence broken only by the consistent drone of the red alert.

“I repeat,” Jim tries again. “This is James T. Kirk in command of the Federation starship _Enterprise_. State your intentions.”

“No response, sir,” Uhura says after another few moments of silence.

As if in exchange for an answer, another photon torpedo is launched from the Klingon ship. This time, Sulu manages to maneuver the _Enterprise_ out of the line of fire just far enough to escape the bulk of the blast.

“Shields at eight percent,” Spock announces. “We cannot sustain any more hits without losing vital equipment.”

Jim rolls his eyes at Spock’s unsurpassed talent for stating the obvious. His own mind is racing, working feverishly to come up with a solution. Jim has never believed in no-win scenarios, but even he has to admit that this situation comes awfully close. How is he supposed to fend off the Klingons if they can neither fight nor run nor talk their way out of this?

Everything he has ever learned about the Klingons is flashing through his mind in fast-forward. He remembers lessons at the Academy about their warrior culture, their aggressive need for expansion, and their repulsive eating habits, but what he’s stuck with is the one message that Starfleet Admirals kept hammering into their brains: The Klingons don’t take prisoners.

Is this it then? Were they going to be blown out of space by a bunch of Klingons who, for some reason, strayed into Federation territory and just happened to catch them unawares? Was this going to be the inglorious end to a mission he should never have attempted in the first place?

Jim looks around the bridge, at his crew who went with him against all odds just because they, like him, believed it was the right thing to do. He balls his hands into fists and swears silently that he is not going to let it end this way. Not for them, not here, not now.

“Captain, the Klingons are hailing us,” Uhura suddenly says from her station.

“What?” Jim gapes at her. “They want to talk?”

Uhura nods, looking as surprised as he is.

“Put them on speaker!”

“Aye, sir.”

“Federation vessel,” a deep, harsh voice resonates throughout the bridge. “This is the _IKS Vor’nak_. Surrender your ship or be destroyed.”

Jim lets out a slow breath. So that’s what the Klingons were after. They didn’t mean to blow them out of space at all – on the contrary, they mean to capture the _Enterprise_ , to parade her back to Qo’noS as a trophy.

Over Jim’s dead body.

“Explain why you fired on our ship,” Jim demands. “We have done nothing to provoke you.”

There is static for a few seconds, then the deep Klingon voice comes on again.

“Your ship has been identified as the vessel responsible for a recent attack on our home planet. Consider this an act of retaliation.”

Jim exchanges a quick look with Spock, whose eyebrows are raised.

“What kind of evidence do you have to support this accusation?” Jim asks cautiously.

“We don’t need to show you evidence. We know that you are the _petaQ_ we have been looking for.”

“The presence of the _Enterprise_ in Qo’noS’ orbit is easily confirmed,” Spock whispers to Jim from his right. “All they have to do is compare our neutrino emissions with the traces we left in Klingon space.”

This gives Jim a sudden idea and he changes tactics.

“We don’t deny that we were there,” he says out loud. “But you must understand that we were ordered by our superiors to enter your territory. It wasn’t our decision. I can also tell you that these same people are plotting against you right now. Your planet is in danger. Let us meet up face to face so we can give you further information.”

Jim holds his breath while he waits for the Klingon commander’s answer. If he takes the bait, they are home free.

A few seconds pass in tense silence. Then the Klingon speaks again.

“You are lying,” he growls. “Lying to save your own hides. It’s as they say: you human _toDSaH_ are nothing but cowards.”

“I assure you, the information we have is extremely –”

“Enough chatter! Surrender your vessel!”

Jim curses under his breath. Trust the Klingons to brush off the truth when it’s staring them right in the face.

“Captain, the Klingons are targeting us,” Chekov says, his voice trembling. “Our shields cannot hold out against another –”

“I am aware of the situation, Mr. Chekov,” Jim says, cutting him off. _Think, for god’s sake._ Think _._

There had to be a way. He couldn’t allow the Klingons to get hold of the _Enterprise_. They would harvest her for every piece of technology they could find. The damage to Federation security would be immeasurable.

Jim knew he had no way of stopping the Klingons from boarding the ship. But there was still something he could do to prevent them from stealing her secrets – a drastic action no Starfleet captain ever wished to take.

The Klingon commander’s voice comes on again. “Drop your shields!”

“Wait!” Jim says, rising from his chair. “Wait.” He swallows hard. “Give me a minute to inform my crew.”

A pause. “I’ll give you two minutes, Kirk. You and your gallant crew.” The Klingon barks out a laugh.

Jim signals Uhura to mute the channel. Then he turns to Spock. “I swear to you we’re not finished yet.”

“What are your orders, Captain?” Sulu asks, who, like Chekov, has left his station and has joined them next to the captain’s chair.

“Chekov, how far are we from Ceti Alpha V?” Jim asks.

“We were just about to enter orbit,” Chekov says, looking puzzled.

“Good. Are you up to showing off your transporter magic again?”

Chekov mouth splits into a grin as comprehension dawns. “Oh yes, sir. Yes, I am.”

Jim reaches over to the captain’s chair and pushes the intercom button. “Scotty, you and Keenser to the transporter room. Now.”

“Aye, sir. We’re on our way.”

“Captain, what is your plan?” Spock asks, frowning deeply.

“The Klingons may have beaten us, but they are not going to take the _Enterprise_ ,” Jim says through gritted teeth. “Come on, we have a job to do. Sulu!” Jim leads the two of them over to the security station.

“Uhura,” he says over his shoulder. “Alert medbay and have Dr. McCoy meet us in the transporter room. Find Khan and order him there as well.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jim exchanges a brief look with Spock, then reaches out to activate the program on the console.

“Computer. This is Captain James T. Kirk requesting security access. Destruct Sequence One, code one, one A.”

Jim hears Sulu’s sharp intake of breath, but he ignores it and nods at Spock instead.

“Computer,” Spock says, his voice even. “This is Commander Spock, Science Officer. Destruct sequence two, code one, one A, two B.”

A blinking indicator on the console tells Jim that the computer is processing the order. He looks at Sulu, who has gone very white, but juts his chin forward and speaks up.

“Computer. This is Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu, Helmsman. Destruct sequence three, code one B, two B, three.”

He gives Jim a weak smile once he’s finished.

“Destruct sequence completed and engaged,” the computer tells them. “Awaiting final code for one-minute countdown.”

This is it. The step Jim had hoped he would never have to take.

“Code ze–” he begins but is interrupted by Uhura.

“Captain, I can reach neither Khan nor Dr. McCoy!”

Jim turns to her. “What?!”

“Khan is not in his quarters and Dr. McCoy isn’t answering. I believe the comm line to medbay is dead.”

 _Dammit_! “Can you fix it?”

“Jim,” Spock says in an uncharacteristically gentle tone. “There isn’t time.”

Jim sinks down onto a chair, feeling like someone just pulled the rug out from under his feet. There is no way out anymore. He can’t destroy the _Enterprise_ as long as Bones and Khan are still on the ship. The Klingons will slaughter everyone on board and take the _Enterprise_ home as loot.

So this is what the _Kobayashi Maru_ test was all about.

As if on cue, the Klingon commander’s voice fills the bridge again.

“Kirk, your time is up. Prepare to be boarded.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping to be able to promise you porn for the next chapter, but I’m afraid we are not quite there yet. It is coming though. ;) 
> 
> Most of the credit for my _Star Trek_ -related research goes to [this handy site](http://en.memory-alpha.org/wiki/Portal:Main).


	7. Part Three (5)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The heat is on! :) 
> 
>  
> 
> Special thanks to [NurseDarry](http://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/pseuds/NurseDarry) for the quickest beta imaginable!

Chekov’s face is ashen when Jim orders him to lower what’s left of the shields.

The Klingons beam right onto the bridge; five tall, burly warriors with their disruptors drawn and crescent-shaped scimitars strapped to their backs. One of them, apparently the leader, walks straight up to Jim and looks him over from head to toe before grunting something in Klingon.

“He wants to know if you’re the captain of this ship,” Uhura says softly from behind Jim. Like himself, she has stood up to receive the Klingon boarding party, doing her best to appear calm and collected.

“I am,” Jim enunciates, standing a little taller, but he still has to raise his head to meet the Klingon’s eyes. They are wild and fiery and all too clearly convey the Klingon’s temptation to slay Jim on the spot. Jim wonders what’s holding him back. Maybe he has orders from above – this is not the Klingon Jim talked to over the comm.

The Klingon turns away and grabs Sulu’s shoulder instead, hauling the helmsman out of his chair in one fell swoop. Sulu hits the floor hard but is on his feet again in an instant, his body taut as a bow string, poised to attack.

Jim stops him with a slight shake of his head. It’s no use engaging the Klingons while they are outgunned like this. There may yet be better opportunities to escape if the boarding party has indeed orders to question them rather than to kill them right away.

Meanwhile, another Klingon has elbowed Chekov out of the way and has sat down at the navigation console. He seems puzzled by the readings on the board and pushes a few buttons at random. Jim cringes at the thought of what kind of harm those brawny hands could do to the delicate machinery of the _Enterprise_. 

The three remaining Klingons aim their disruptors at Jim and his crew and gesture towards the turbolift. Jim doesn’t need Uhura’s whispered translation to guess what they are supposed to do. He lets his gaze sweep over the bridge, now in the hands of the enemy, and reluctantly leads the way.

The turbolift is crowded with Sulu, Chekov, Uhura, Spock, himself, and the three Klingons squeezed inside it, one of whom gives a harsh command and nudges Jim in the ribs with the barrel of his disruptor.

“I don’t speak Klingon!” Jim says heatedly, barely able to hold himself back from head-butting the long-haired brute. This one has a chain hanging around his neck with what look suspiciously like boar tusks dangling from it.

“He wants you to tell the computer to take us to the brig,” Uhura says, a small tremble in her voice.

Jim exchanges a quick look with Spock, but the Vulcan doesn’t seem to have any immediate alternative for action either.

“Deck eighteen,” Jim mumbles and, after another forceful poke with the disruptor’s barrel, gives the computer a more audible command. The turbolift springs into action and begins its descent.

While they are waiting, the Klingon with the boar tusks pulls what appears to be a communicator out of his uniform. It’s sharp-edged like his disruptor and once it’s switched on Jim can hear the familiar voice of the _Vor’nak_ ’s commander through the speaker. To his left, Uhura tenses, no doubt pricking up her ears to catch what is being said over the comm. Sulu and Chekov are staring straight ahead, their faces blank. Sulu’s jaw is working as if he, like Jim, is fighting very hard to keep still.

Once they arrive at Deck 18 they are ushered out of the turbolift without ceremony. To Jim’s dismay, there is another Klingon waiting for them in the corridor. He already seems far too familiar with this part of the _Enterprise_ , for he leads them directly to the detention area.

So, there are more Klingons all over the ship. Fantastic.

The next nasty surprise is waiting for Jim inside one of the holding cells in the form of Scotty and Keenser. Scotty jumps to his feet when he spots them being marched in, his anguished cry of “Captain!” an unpleasant reminder for Jim that it was he who got them into this mess.

They are thrown into the same cell as the two of them, a fact that Jim can’t help but feel grateful for. It will be much easier to formulate an escape plan when they can communicate with each other without having to shout across the room, even if the Klingons don’t seem to know a smattering of English.

They seem, however, to have mastered the use of the brig controls quite well, for the force field is back in place the second the last of their group – Chekov – stumbles over the threshold. Jim has half a mind to say something soothing to their youngest crew member, whose hair is a sweaty mess from the many instances he must have run his hands through it, but this isn’t the time. Their first priority is to escape; comfort can come later.

As soon as their guards have taken up position in the detention area – the three Klingons who rode with them on the turbolift, while the fourth must have left on some other errand – Jim’s crew gathers around him in the cell, conversing in whispers.

“What’s happening, Captain?” Scotty asks, wide-eyed. “I thought there was a plan! Keenser and I were on the way to the transporter room when those hairy devils jumped us and brought us here!”

“I’m sorry, Scotty,” Jim says. “It didn’t quite turn out the way I intended it to.”

“They mean to question us,” Uhura says, the fear in her voice now evident. “The Klingon just informed their captain that we’ve been taken into custody.”

“Do we have any idea how many of them there are on the _Enterprise_?” Jim asks.

Spock shakes his head. “Impossible to tell. Starfleet doesn’t have precise data on the average crew complement of a D5 battle cruiser. It could be anything from twenty to two-hundred, a large percentage of whom will undoubtedly have been ordered to participate in the boarding party.”

“What about Dr. McCoy?” Sulu asks, taking care to keep his voice low. “Did they catch him, too?”

“Then he would be here with us, wouldn’t he?” Jim says. “Same goes for Khan.”

Jim can’t prevent a spring of hope welling up in his chest at the thought. Khan has proven before that he is more than capable of handling a squad of Klingons by himself. If he’s still running free aboard the _Enterprise_ …if he’s willing to help them…they might just stand a chance.

They are kept waiting for what seems like hours. Jim has taken up pacing the confines of their cell to rid himself of the nervous energy pulsing through his body. Spock has his fingers folded into what Jim recognizes as some sort of Vulcan meditation posture, while Chekov is cowering in the corner next to the toilet, still white as a sheet and cracking his knuckles.

At one point, the ship gives a huge lurch, startling them all. Jim can see Scotty wince and take a step towards the force field, but he apparently thinks better of it and sits back down on the bunk bed.

“They have us in a tractor beam,” he mumbles with slumped shoulders while Keenser coos softly to his right.

“They are going to take us to Qo’noS,” Chekov says in a dead voice. “Where we will be executed.”

“No one is going to be executed,” Jim says, a little harsher than he intended. “We are not finished yet.”

Chekov makes a face as though he might disagree, but he wisely keeps his thoughts to himself. Uhura and Sulu, on the other hand, exchange a look that tells Jim that they share his hopes – for as long as Khan and Bones remain undiscovered, they have an ace up their sleeves.

The Klingons outside their cell approach the force field from time to time and shower them with a litany of guttural sounds, which Jim has no problem identifying as insults. Boar Tusks seems particularly adept at making jokes at their expense, for the other Klingons break into raucous laughter whenever he starts on them. Uhura doesn’t bother translating anymore.

Finally, the door to the detention center opens again and an impressive-looking Klingon walks in, flanked by the leader from the bridge and a woman whose prominently displayed breasts distract rather nicely from her razor-sharp teeth.

Jim gets to his feet and approaches the force field. The man in the middle has to be the captain of the _Vor’nak_. He oozes authority and towers over the other Klingons like an oak tree. His hair is tied into a ponytail and the beard on his young face is neatly trimmed – a strange sight in the midst of the unkemptness of the rest of his crew.

The captain comes to a halt in front of Jim and studies him silently for a few minutes. Then he starts talking, and Jim almost lets out a yell of surprise when he realizes that he is being addressed in English. It’s a little halting and the Klingon’s accent takes some getting used to, but Jim appreciates not having to rely on a translator to communicate.

“Kirk. I am Gorkon, commander of the _IKS Vor’nak_.”

Jim gives a curt nod.

“Where is the rest of your crew?” Gorkon continues.

For a tense second, Jim is afraid that the Klingon is referring to Bones and Khan – but then he realizes that of course the boarding party must have noticed how unusual it is for a starship of this size to be manned by only seven people.

“There is no one else,” Jim says, gesturing at his officers, all of whom have risen to their feet and are watching their conversation. “This is all of us.”

The Klingon – Gorkon – scowls darkly. “And what about the woman in your sickbay, the one who can’t be woken? Is she not a member of your crew?”

“Who?” Jim asks, genuinely puzzled. Who the hell is Gorkon talking about? Did Bones open up one of the cryotubes in spite of Jim’s explicit orders not to?

Gorkon shakes his head with what appears to be a look of disappointment. “You are lying again. You have no honor. I should have known better than to expect the truth from a human.”

Jim swallows. The Klingon’s accusation stings for some reason, but there’s no point in refuting it. He decides he’d better change the subject.

“I wasn’t lying when I was telling you about the threat to your planet. Let me explain what’s happening. Maybe together we can prevent the worst.”

“And in exchange I suppose I am to give you back your ship?” Gorkon asks, his voice dripping with scorn. “You do not fool me, Captain.” He takes a deep breath while Jim’s mind is whirring with alternate strategies. “We are taking you to our home planet. There, you will stand trial for the crimes you committed against our people.”

“As I said before, we were ordered –”

“Silence! I have heard enough of your excuses. You will be kept here for the remainder of our journey.”

He turns to the woman beside him and says a few lines in Klingon. The woman scowls at his words, but nods and immediately starts yelling at the three guards. Boar Tusks snaps to attention while the other two scurry to take up position by the door through which Gorkon and his remaining companion have just made their exit.

Jim rubs his forehead once they are left alone again, the Klingon woman patrolling the room and shooting them dark looks from time to time. This Captain Gorkon seems like a tough nut to crack. Unless Jim finds an angle how to convince him that they’re trustworthy, there is no way the Klingon will be willing to negotiate. It’s a miracle he is conversing with them at all instead of just torturing what he wants to know out of them.

Which leaves escape as their last option. Once they’ve arrived on Qo’noS, no matter what he told Chekov, Jim knows there won’t be any hope for them left.

*~*~*

If Jim thought things couldn’t get any worse, he is proven wrong a few hours later. They are taking turns on the bunk bed and Jim has just lain down and closed his eyes to rest for a few minutes when there is a commotion outside the detention area – loud shouting and footsteps followed by the door sliding open.

Jim is on his feet in an instant. There are four more Klingons entering and each pair is holding a prisoner between them.

“Oh no!” Jim hears Scotty gasp beside him while his own heart is sinking to his boots. The prisoners are Khan and Bones, and they both look _dreadful_.

Bones has a gash across his forehead that is bleeding into his eyes, forcing him to blink to orientate himself. His feet are dragging and his uniform shirt is torn in a few places, revealing bruised skin that makes Jim’s stomach clench in sympathy.

Khan, for some reason, looks even worse. He is all but sagging in the arms of the two Klingons at his side, his face shiny with sweat and his whole body wracked with tremors. Aside from a small trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, he doesn’t seem to be injured, but his mussed-up hair and rumpled clothes tell Jim that he, too, must have been in a fight.

The Klingon woman – who, as Jim has overheard, is called Shenara – bars their way and starts questioning the newcomers. At one point during the conversation, she grabs McCoy’s hair and lifts his head to study it, but Bones seems too out of it to realize what’s happening. Shenara gestures to their cell and the Klingons drag McCoy towards it, lowering the force field just long enough to throw him bodily in.

“Bones!” Jim yells, kneeling down beside his friend. The wound on his forehead looks even worse up close and he seems to have been knocked unconscious by his fall to the floor. Chekov holds out a piece of cloth he probably tore out of his uniform and Jim gratefully accepts it, pressing it against the gash to stem the blood flow. Bones moans at the touch but doesn’t open his eyes.

Outside their cell, Khan’s guards are in what appears to be a heated discussion with Shenara. When Jim looks up, he can see one of the Klingons gesticulating wildly at her, possibly relaying the tale of how they managed to capture Khan and McCoy. Shenara, meanwhile, looks down at Khan with an odd mixture of curiosity and revulsion on her face.

“They’re saying he’s sick,” Uhura whispers from Jim’s left.

Jim exchanges a quick glance with her. “Sick? What do they mean?”

Uhura narrows her eyes while she’s listening. “They were ambushed on their way to engineering and got into a fight with the two humans. The warrior-like one – Khan – almost managed to overpower them, but they got the better of him when he suddenly collapsed and started to convulse. They couldn’t tell what set off the attack, but he has been like this ever since.”

As soon as Uhura stops talking, the two guards let go of Khan and he drops to the floor like a dead weight. Jim’s heart skips a beat as the urge to run over and take care of Khan overwhelms him. He watches, helpless, as Shenara bends over Khan and takes an audible sniff, wrinkles up her nose in disgust, and spits out, missing Khan by inches.

“She’s telling them he needs to be isolated,” Uhura says in a hurried whisper. “They can’t risk him infecting their crew with whatever’s wrong with him.”

While Jim is starting to get an inkling of what exactly that might be, the two guards pick Khan up and drag him towards the opposite cell, where they leave him sprawled on the floor.

Jim’s heart is beating in his throat. He yearns to go over to Khan, to check on him, to help him any way he can. But he is condemned to watch as the Klingons activate the force field around the cell and head for the exit, completely oblivious to the state of their prisoner.

Jim has to force himself to direct his attention back to his crew mates. Scotty and Sulu have helped Bones into a sitting position, where he blinks and shakes his head experimentally, wincing when the movement aggravates what must be one hell of a concussion.

“They got you badly,” Jim says, placing a supportive hand on Bones’ shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Jim,” Bones mumbles with his eyes half-closed. “We meant to get you out, Khan and I, but his heat was coming on too strong.”

Jim is stunned for a moment. So his hunch was right – what he witnessed just now were symptoms of an Omega in heat.

“You said it was impossible! You said there was no way Khan’s body would be able to go into heat on its own.”

“I know.” Bones grimaces and rubs his neck gingerly. “I forgot to take into account one key environmental factor – the presence of an Alpha that said Omega feels attracted to.”

“What do you mean? Are you saying that this is _my_ fault?”

“Relax, Jim. It’s just biology. Strong attraction to a member of the opposite gender can trigger natural heats in Omegas. It makes sense from an evolutionary standpoint. I guess I underestimated your sex appeal.” He manages a rather crooked grin.

Jim can feel himself blushing as he takes in Bones’ words. But before he has a chance to fully appreciate the revelation that Khan is indeed attracted to him, that his own desire for Khan is actually reciprocated, the horrible truth of the situation hits him flat-out.

“Bones! How is Khan going to _survive_?!”

Bones’ face darkens. He suddenly looks anywhere but at Jim.

“Bones, answer me!”

It’s not Bones who finally responds to Jim, but Spock. The Vulcan’s voice sounds strange somehow, flat and distant, as though he was recalling something deeply disturbing.

“He won’t. He is driven by forces he cannot control to take a mate. Or die.”

Uhura takes a step closer to Spock, her eyes never leaving his face, and squeezes his hand as if to comfort him.

“I’m afraid he’s right, Jim,” Bones says. “There’s nothing we can do for Khan. The only thing that will put an end to his heat is if he mates with an Alpha, and I don’t see how we can make that possible. He has a few hours left at most before he becomes delirious.”

The thought of Khan dying makes something in Jim’s chest constrict so tightly that he has difficulty catching his breath. He looks over to the other cell and can see that Khan is in the process of getting up. He is still trembling from head to foot and uses the edge of the bunk bed to hoist himself onto his knees, where he doubles over with a silent cry. Jim has to swallow hard around the lump in his throat.

As if from far away, he can hear Spock addressing Bones. “Doctor, the Klingons mentioned a woman lying unconscious in medbay. Is she one of the augments?”

“Yes,” Bones says. “Her name is Kati, according to Khan. Her cryotube became unstable when we were hit by the Klingons. That’s when Khan showed up in medbay. He went berserk when her vitals dropped, so I got her out and put her into an induced coma. She’ll be fine as long as no one tampers with the settings.”

Jim knows he should be joining the conversation, maybe comment on the fact that Bones went against his explicit orders when he opened up Kati’s cryotube, but he can’t tear his gaze away from Khan, who is just making another attempt to get up off the floor, his face scrunched up in pain.

From afar, Jim can’t make out any wet stains on Khan’s pants, but he knows they must be there. He may not have witnessed an Omega’s heat first-hand prior to this, but he has read all about it, as soon as he found out about his own status as an Alpha. Khan must be dripping with his body’s natural lubricant by now.

It’s an oddly arousing thought and Jim feels momentarily relieved that he is unable to smell Khan due to the two force fields between them. The scent of an Omega in heat was said to strip an Alpha of all rational thought and reduce him to a bundle of raging hormones − hardly the state of mind Jim wishes to be in right now, however much appeal the thought might hold for him in different circumstances. He needs to keep a clear head if he is to save Khan’s life.

It’s this thought that propels Jim into action. He plants himself in front of the force field, squaring his shoulders to look as formidable as possible, and shouts “Hey!” at the top of his lungs.

Shenara’s head swivels in his direction. She narrows her eyes at him, a deep scowl on her face.

“I need to speak to you”, Jim says. “Uhura, translate.”

Uhura has already left Spock’s side and has joined Jim in front of the force field, where she utters a few words in Klingon. Shenara looks, if possible, even more annoyed in response.

“She just told you to shut your face,” Uhura says with a hint of an apology in her voice.

“I don’t care,” Jim says, clenching his fists. “She’s _got_ to listen to me. Tell her I know how to save his life.” He points at Khan in the cell across the room.

Shenara sneers while she listens to Uhura, looking from Jim to Khan and back again.

“She’s asking why she should care if a human _petaQ_ dies,” Uhura translates. “If she had had her way, we would all be dead already.”

“Charming,” Jim mutters, ignoring the jolt that goes through him at the realization that they indeed owe their lives to the Klingon captain, and him alone.

“You have orders to get us to Qo’noS so that we may stand trial,” Jim says, building on his observation. “Your superiors won’t be very happy with you if you allow one of us, our greatest warrior no less, to die. Think about what an honor it would be if you were the one to –”

But Jim is spared the use of his feeble insights into the Klingon psyche when there’s a sudden lurch followed by a noticeable decrease of velocity. The Klingon ship seems to have dropped out of warp, towing the _Enterprise_ with it into normal space.

“What’s going on?” Sulu asks, stepping up to Jim.

Shenara, who looks as puzzled as the rest of them, pulls out her communicator and starts speaking in rapid Klingon.

“She’s signaling the captain,” Uhura whispers in Jim’s ear. “She wants to know why we’ve stopped.”

Jim is silent as Uhura tenses next to him, trying to catch Gorkon’s answer. “There’s a ship approaching,” she says after a few seconds. “A Federation vessel.”

Jim looks at her, startled. By his calculations, they must be deep in Klingon space by now. Why would a Starfleet ship stray this far across the border with interplanetary relations being as tetchy as they were? Or could this be –

“Our pursuers?” Spock asks in a low voice. Jim nods. It’s one of the few explanations that actually makes sense. If so, they just managed to get caught between a rock and a hard place. Wonderful.

Shenara, apparently, has been ordered back to the _Vor’nak_ , for she leaves the room after a few brisk commands to the three guards.

“Wait!” Jim calls after her, panicking. “You’ve got to let me talk to you!” But all he gets is a malicious sneer from Boar Tusks, who positions himself in front of their cell, fondling his disruptor.

Jim is about to drive his fist through the wall in frustration. At this moment, he couldn’t care less about the situation between the Klingons and Starfleet; he needs to get to Khan, right now.

 _And then what?_ a small voice inside his head asks. He could hardly make love to Khan in the middle of a prison cell under the eyes of not only his crewmates, but their Klingon captors as well. Besides, Khan and he never talked about this thing between them, never openly discussed what they were to each other. He would be no better than Marcus if he took advantage of Khan in his current state.

As if on cue, there’s a muffled moan coming from the opposite cell. Khan finally managed to heave himself onto the bunk bed and is lying with his back to them now. If his movements are any indication, he is trying to find some release by himself. Jim’s mouth is watering against his will and he quickly shakes his head to clear it.

“He doesn’t have much time, Jim,” Bones says, a worried frown creasing his forehead. “His metabolism is going haywire. He’s burning up.”

Jim crouches down in front of the bunk bed, biting his fist in a desperate effort to get a grip on his emotions. What the hell is he going to do? He can’t just sit there and watch Khan die. The thought alone is too much to bear. But with Shenara gone, who is he supposed to talk into allowing him to help Khan? Could he maybe trick Boar Tusks and his two companions into lowering the force field, perhaps by pretending to be sick himself?

It was worth a try. Anything to drain the sea of helplessness he is threatening to drown in.

Jim is just about to relate the gist of his plan to his crewmates when suddenly the door opens and Captain Gorkon enters the detention area, without his entourage this time. His keen eyes find Jim’s in an instant and he marches straight up to him, the decorations on his uniform clinking with each step.

“I am told that you are outlaws, on the run from your government,” Gorkon says once he has come to a halt in front of the force field. “Is this true?”

“Yes,” Jim says, rising to meet the Klingon captain on his feet.  

“I am also told that you helped this man –” Gorkon points to Khan in the other cell, “− escape from one of your prisons.”

“With good reason,” Jim says. “He is innocent of many of the crimes he is accused of. One of our admirals used him in the most heinous way possible. It’s that man who we want brought to justice.”

Gorkon’s eyes are glittering as he takes in Jim’s words.

“What’s more,” Jim continues, following a sudden hunch, “Khan has inside knowledge about Starfleet Command, information our superiors don’t want exposed. That’s why they want to silence him. It was Khan who told us about the plan to poison your planet. Starfleet means to stab you in the back. They don’t have the guts to face you in open battle.”

“Then they are without honor,” Gorkon grumbles. “A true warrior does not resort to devious schemes to succeed.”

“Right,” Jim says. “But I assure you that my crew and I are nothing like that. That’s why we’re on the run. We will not stand idly by and allow Starfleet to wipe out your entire race. That’s not the Federation way. We want peace above all.” Jim takes a deep breath and decides to go for broke. “I’ve come to know you to be an honorable man. You could have killed us, but you didn’t. We are in your debt. Trust me when I tell you that these people out there will stop at nothing to destroy you.”

Gorkon is silent for a long while, his dark eyes never leaving Jim’s face.

“The Starfleet woman I spoke to,” he finally says. “She wants me to hand you and your crew over to her. In exchange she says I get to keep your ship.”

“It’s a lie,” Jim says at once, a vivid picture of Charlize Hunter captaining the _Vengeance_ rising in his mind. “She would never allow the _Enterprise_ to be taken. The minute we’ve beamed aboard her ship, she’s going to turn on you. You’ve scanned her vessel; you know what it’s capable of. You know your ship won’t stand a chance against hers.”

“She wouldn’t dare attack us in Klingon space! The Empire would retaliate. It would start a war!”

“But that’s exactly what she’s after! The Klingons declaring war would give her the perfect excuse to distribute the pathogen that’s going to kill your people. She could even sell it to the public as self-defense. Don’t you see? There aren’t going to be any glorious battles if you go to war with the Federation. Starfleet Command has been preparing for this for months. They are going to pull the rug out from under your feet so you will have lost the war before the first canon is fired!”

Gorkon’s eyes have widened during Jim’s speech. He seems to be doing some very hard thinking.

“There is a saying on Earth,” Jim says, emboldened by his observation. “ _The enemy of my enemy is my friend_.” He doesn’t need to look at Spock to know that the Vulcan’s eyebrows have just disappeared under his hairline. “Let’s work together on this. If we team up, we can expose Starfleet Command’s plan to annihilate your people. We can bring the matter before the Federation Council. With Khan as a witness –” Jim falters, realizing what he just said.

 _Khan_.

His eyes swivel to the opposite cell, where Khan is still lying hunched on the bunk bed, visible tremors jarring his body. Jim takes a step towards him, remembering just in time that there’s a force field blocking his way. He takes a shaky breath and addresses Gorkon again.

“I need to tend to…to my crewmate. He is sick. I can help him.”

Gorkon’s eyes are narrowing while he considers Jim. “I wasn’t aware that you are also a healer.”

“I’m not. It’s just…” Jim’s heart is racing while he tries to think of an explanation that will make sense to the Klingon. He can barely keep his eyes off Khan’s prone figure.

“Please… He will die if you don’t let me go to him. I need to…to _be_ with him…for a while. Please.”

Gorkon looks shrewdly between him and Khan and back again. There’s something like comprehension dawning on his face.

“This man,” he finally says. “Is he your mate?”

“Yes,” Jim says, and in this moment, he knows it to be true with every fiber of his being.

“And he will die if you don’t…take care of him?”

“Yes.”

Gorkon rubs his chin while he continues to gaze at Jim. “We have a creature on our home world called the _Kurr_. Once every year it travels all the way back to the place where it was born to take a mate. If it does not succeed, it dies.”

“So you understand,” Jim says, merciful relief flooding his system.

Gorkon watches him silently and, after a seemingly endless moment, inclines his head in agreement.

“There seems to be an error in our communications system,” he says, his voice laden with double meaning. “We will not be able to contact the Starfleet vessel for at least the next…” He raises his eyebrows at Jim.

“Twelve hours?” Jim completes the sentence, hardly daring to believe what’s happening.

“Twelve hours,” Gorkon repeats. “In the meantime, your crew will give me all the information they have gathered on the pathogen that is to be used against the Klingon Empire.”

“Of course,” Jim hastens to confirm. “My officers are at your disposal.”

“Very well. Oh, and Kirk?”

Jim looks up.

“We have a saying on our world, too: _The enemy of my enemy is the enemy I'll kill last_. You would do well to remember it.”

Jim is aware that he is gaping at the Klingon, taken aback by the sudden threat, but after a few seconds of silence Gorkon breaks into raucous laughter. His chest is still heaving with chuckles when he walks out of the detention area and the door closes shut behind him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who recognized him: yes, the Klingon captain is supposed to be a younger version of Chancellor Gorkon from _Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country_. ;)


	8. Part Three (6)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings for this chapter:** discussion of rape and recovery, PTSD, miscarriage
> 
> Oh, and lots of porn. ;) Enjoy!

Jim is pacing outside his quarters, his palms clammy and his heart hammering in his chest. Now that the moment has come, now that a dream of his is actually about to come true, he finds himself unaccountably nervous.

There are two Klingons standing guard on either side of the door, watching his every move. Gorkon may trust Jim enough to let him use his own quarters on the _Enterprise_ for his tryst with Khan, but he is still cautious. Jim can’t blame him; it’s what he would do if their roles were reversed.

Jim doesn’t even know what he’s waiting for, but something is making him hesitate to cross that bridge, to take that final step towards a union with the man he has fantasized about for weeks. There are too many _what-ifs_ , too many unspoken things between them. What is Jim supposed to say once he opens that door and finds Khan there, in the throes of his heat and half-mad with desire? How is he going to make sure that being with him is what Khan truly wants? Bones may have deduced that Khan’s heat is due to his attraction to Jim, but what if Khan doesn’t really want him around?

Jim is determined not to take advantage of Khan’s vulnerability; he is not going to be another Marcus. This has to be Khan’s decision, and his alone.

But what if Jim loses his cool the minute he steps inside his quarters and gets a whiff of Khan’s scent, the scent of an Omega in heat? What if his hormones overpower his judgment and he just takes what he wants without regard for consent or consequences?

It’s this thought that drives Jim to grab a fistful of his own hair and pull at it so hard that his eyes start to water. One of the Klingons sneers at him and grunts something that Jim doesn’t need translated to recognize as an insult. He turns away from the guards to stare at the blank wall of the corridor instead.

It’s no use. Whatever misgivings he might have, however great the risk, this is the only way to save Khan’s life. He has to do this, and what’s more, he _wants_ to do it. Of course he does. The thought of mating with an Omega − more so an Omega in heat − has been a daydream of Jim’s for years, and this is _Khan_ , who is irresistible all on his own. Jim is not going to back out now that he’s so close to having his deepest desire fulfilled. He’s just going to have to wing it and pray that his concern for Khan overrides his baser urges.

Jim takes a deep breath and turns around, ignoring the two gloating Klingons on either side of him. Then he unlocks the door.

The inside is dark, just like the last time Khan visited his quarters; the only light comes through the open bathroom door. That’s all Jim registers before he is hit by a wave of _want_ , so strong that it threatens to literally knock him off his feet. His knees are shaking, his heart is racing, and in a matter of seconds, he is sporting the biggest hard-on. He feels dizzy just breathing in that wonderful, exquisite, beguiling scent that leaves him with only one objective: WANT. NEED. NOW.

Khan. Where is Khan?

Jim takes a few steps towards the bed on shaky legs. Suddenly, there’s a presence at his back, a pair of strong arms winding their way around his chest, and a gravelly voice whispering, “Looking for me, Captain?”

Khan aligns his body with Jim’s and draws him even closer, making Jim gasp when he feels Khan’s prominent erection pressing against his ass. His head falls back onto Khan’s shoulder and he bares his neck for Khan, who starts to lick, nibble, and occasionally bite his way down to his collarbone.

It’s a rush that goes to Jim’s head like a drug. He feels like he’s floating on endorphins, hovering a few feet above the ground on a high of scent and touch. He wouldn’t be surprised if he could come from the simple sensation of Khan’s lips on his skin.

Meanwhile, Khan has lifted Jim’s uniform shirt with one hand and starts exploring his abdomen with the other. “Take this off,” he rasps.

Jim is barely coherent enough to follow the command. He sways on the spot for a second before he manages to pull the shirt over his head. When he turns to face Khan, Jim discovers to his surprise that the augment is already completely naked.

Jim’s mouth is watering while he re-familiarizes himself with the toned body, the taut stomach muscles, the perked-up nipples he yearns to suck and lick. Khan’s cock stands out magnificently against his dark curls, begging to be worshipped.

Jim takes a step closer and reaches out to trace a line from Khan’s shoulder over his chest down to his stomach. By the time he has reached his navel, he can hear Khan suck in a needy breath in response.

The next thing he knows, Jim is being pushed backwards onto the bed by a strong hand. Khan is on top of him, claiming his mouth in a fierce kiss before Jim has a chance to catch his breath. The loss of air only adds to Jim’s high and he arches his back with a groan, fingers scrambling for every inch of Khan he can reach.

Jim dimly remembers that there was something he meant to say, something he wanted cleared up before… But it all fades to nothing when Khan shoves a hand down his pants and closes it around Jim’s cock.

“Oh god,” Jim cries out before he can stop himself, hips buckling against Khan’s hand to get more of that delicious friction. He feels awfully close to coming right now. Khan’s eyes are wild above his face, his hair mussed up. His skin feels like fire, but Jim has never cared less about getting burnt.

“Clothes off,” Khan commands, his voice rough, and he withdraws his hand from Jim’s cock. Jim can’t help a needy whimper at the sudden loss of contact and has to take a few seconds to collect himself. With great effort, he manages to kick off his boots and wriggle out of his pants – and then Khan’s hands are back on his cock, both of them this time, and Jim can hardly draw a proper breath before Khan has gotten into position. Knees on either side of Jim’s torso he directs Jim’s cock to his entrance, its head nudging against Khan’s twitching hole. Jim can only mutter incoherently when his cock slides in, and Khan takes him in deeper and deeper, lowering himself onto Jim in one smooth glide.

The feeling of velvety wetness around his cock causes fireworks to explode behind Jim’s eyelids. He has hardly gotten used to the sensation when Khan starts rocking his hips, setting a rhythm that drives Jim to the edges of what’s left of his sanity.

Khan’s cock is leaking against his stomach, smearing pre-come all over the skin, but as soon as Jim makes a grab for it, his hand is swatted away. Jim looks up at Khan, who braces his arms on either side of Jim, strands of black hair falling onto his forehead while he works himself harder and harder on Jim’s cock.

The look of desperate need on Khan’s face is the last straw for Jim and he comes with a shout, spurting his release into Khan’s body. Khan continues to milk him from above and rides out Jim’s orgasm, seemingly intent on making every second count. His own cock is purple at the tip as it bumps between them to the rhythm of his fading thrusts.

Jim feels completely boneless as Khan finally withdraws and climbs off him. Jim is just about to ask for a reprieve before taking care of what must be by now one hell of an aching hard-on, when he realizes that Khan has already gotten out of bed and has left for the bathroom. A moment later, Jim hears the shower being turned on.

It takes him a while to get a grasp of what has just happened. The scent of Khan’s heat is still heavy in the air and it’s difficult for Jim to focus. Although brief and rather one-sided, this had to have been the hottest sex he has ever had in his life. But there’s something nagging at him… Something doesn’t feel quite right. Weren’t they supposed to talk about this before…well, _before_?

Fifteen minutes later, Jim is feeling drowsy, yet he’s coherent enough to get up and put his pants back on, which he finds discarded on the floor at the foot of the bed. That’s when he realizes that the shower is still running.

Figuring he’d better check on Khan to make sure they were both okay with how things went, Jim walks over to the bathroom and enters it. The mirrors are steamed up and Jim can barely breathe due to the moistness in the air. It takes him a few seconds to orientate himself but once he does, he notices something that makes his heart skip a beat.

Khan is crouching with his back against the shower wall, seemingly oblivious to the hot water raining down on him, his face deadly pale.

“Khan?” Jim asks, cautiously taking a few steps closer. “Khan, are you all right?”

Khan doesn’t answer, doesn’t give any indication that he has heard Jim. He is staring straight ahead, his expression blank, arms wrapped tightly around himself.

“Khan, what’s wrong?” Jim tries again, growing more alarmed by the second. He opens the door to the shower stall and reaches in to turn off the water, ignoring the residual spray that hits his skin. There’s still no reaction from Khan.

“Shit,” Jim curses, lowering himself to Khan’s level. He’s acutely glad that he put his pants back on before walking in here; he has a feeling that having to look at his naked groin right now might drive Khan even deeper into his trance or whatever the hell this was.

“Khan,” Jim says in a low voice, delicately placing a hand on Khan’s arm and shaking it a little. “Khan, it’s all right. Come back to me, okay? Khan?”

The touch raises Khan out of his stupor, but he still seems miles away when he turns his gaze on Jim. For a few seconds Khan looks at him uncomprehendingly; then, slowly, awareness seems to return. He blinks a few times and shakes his head.

“What…?”

“You spaced out on me for a minute. Where did you go?”

“I’m not… Kirk?”

The look of puzzlement on Khan’s face is so pronounced that Jim has to ask. “Do you remember where you are?”

Khan looks around the bathroom and takes in the tiled walls and the steamed-up mirrors.

“I appear to be in your quarters.”

“That’s right, you are. And do you remember what just happened?”

Jim can practically see the memory of the last half hour returning. Khan’s whole body tenses and his eyes grow wide with alarm.

“I… I must apologize for my rashness, Captain,” he says with difficulty, stumbling over his words. “It was not my intent to…to –”

“Stop it. There’s no need to be sorry. You don’t hear me complaining, do you?” He winks at Khan, who winces and doesn’t meet Jim’s eyes. He braces himself against the wall instead and slowly rises to his feet. Jim notices that Khan’s cock is flaccid now – he must have taken care of himself in the shower before he spaced out, or maybe the trance caused his erection to wilt – but he quickly redirects his gaze to Khan’s eye-level.

“Here.” Jim holds out a towel, which Khan gratefully accepts, wrapping it around his waist like a comforting blanket.

“Would you like something to eat? I could do with some bacon and eggs myself right now, I’m starving.”

Khan doesn’t answer, so Jim walks back into the living area and busies himself with the replicator. He remembers reading somewhere how important it is for Omegas to stay hydrated during their heats, so he gets Khan a large glass of orange juice and on second thought, adds another glass of water.

Jim is just about to set the table when Khan walks into the room, clad all in black again, his hair damp from the shower. He still smells like the most intoxicating thing Jim has ever scented, but their encounter from before seems to have taken the edge off his need at least.

Khan looks around the room and then at Jim, worrying the sleeve of his uniform shirt in an uncharacteristic show of uncertainty. “There is a chance that I might require your…assistance again, Captain,” he says, traces of embarrassment still lingering in his voice.

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Jim answers with somewhat of a lewd grin. “And it’s Jim.”

“Sorry?”

“Jim. You just had my cock up your ass, the least you can do is call me by my first name.”

Khan’s eyebrows shoot up at the quip but he doesn’t laugh. Jim sighs and leans against the table.

“Listen, I know this isn’t an ideal situation, but as long as you’re fine with it, I am. There’s nothing to feel embarrassed about. I’m glad to help out. More than glad, in fact.” He smirks at Khan, who still doesn’t smile back.

“If you’re worried about some sort of obligation to me, don’t be,” Jim continues, faltering a bit. “I’m not expecting anything of you. I’m simply here to help you get through this. There are no strings attached.” A small part of Jim wants to protest against his own words, but he resolutely tells that part to shut up.

Khan, on the other hand, seems to relax a fraction, for the tension in his shoulders visibly eases. His eyes fall on the two glasses on the table.

“Help yourself,” Jim says, sitting down on one of the chairs. He gets started on his eggs while Khan joins him at the table and drains the glass of water in one go. 

“So what was that back there?” Jim asks, waving his fork in the direction of the bathroom while keeping his voice deliberately light. When Khan remains silent, he forces himself to add the question that’s really nagging at him. “Was it something I did?”

Khan meets his eyes properly for the first time since they left the bed. He frowns and seems to ponder the question, but eventually shakes his head.

“I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” Jim, only marginally relieved, ploughs on. “But I’m flying blind here. You need to tell me what you need from me, Khan. What you want me to do, what you don’t want me to do. Where your triggers lie.”

“You don’t need to pamper me, Kirk,” Khan says through clenched teeth. “I am more than capable of holding my own, as I believe you may have noticed.”

“Is that why you jumped out of bed the minute I was done and hid yourself away in the shower?” Jim asks without thinking. He winces at his own candor. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”

“I don’t need to justify myself to you,” Khan growls.

Jim raises his hands in a pacifying gesture. “No, you don’t. I’m just…” Jim puts his fork down and runs a hand through his hair. “I guess I just need to know if you want this the same way I do.”

Khan’s eyes have gone wide at Jim’s last words, and this time, he doesn’t break the contact. There are so many unspoken things in his look that Jim’s breath catches in his throat and his cock twitches in anticipation. It’s like he’s physically drawn to Khan, the moth to his flame, and before he knows it, he is standing between Khan’s open legs cradling his face, with no memory of moving. Khan’s eyes travel to his lips and Jim goes for it, kisses the corner of Khan’s mouth like he’s asking for permission, and is met at once with warm, welcoming wetness.

Kissing Khan is even better than Jim remembers. There’s no rush this time, no frenzied need or hurried groping, just the slow, sensual buildup of mutual desire. Khan tastes even more delicious to Jim now that he’s in heat. The way he gives and takes, both pliant and demanding at the same time, threatens to drive Jim crazy. He all but climbs into Khan’s lap and wraps his arms around his neck, his renewed hard-on straining against his pants.

The next time they break apart for air, Jim lets his hand glide between their bodies all the way down to cup Khan’s growing erection, rubbing it through the fabric. Khan moans and lets his head fall back, a chance Jim seizes in order to press a trail of kisses onto the arched neck, causing Khan to writhe against him in response.

Emboldened by Khan’s reaction, Jim fumbles for the zipper of Khan’s pants, pulls it down, and gets rewarded with the amazing sensation of Khan’s pulsating cock. He pulls it out and caresses the shaft, relishing the feel of it against his skin, rubbing his thumb over the head. This elicits the most beautiful little moans from Khan, who bucks up against him, his legs falling open in invitation.

“Let me,” Jim whispers, sliding down Khan’s body until his knees hit the ground, opening his mouth and finally, _finally_ tasting Khan. He lets his tongue swirl around the head and licks a few wet strokes along the shaft before he sucks it in, making Khan’s thighs quiver in response. When Jim’s fingers begin to tease his balls, Khan all but thrusts into his mouth.

Jim is just getting a good rhythm going when suddenly there are hands in his hair – but instead of pulling him in like he expected, they are pushing him away. It takes a minute for Jim to understand what’s going on, but once he does, he quickly releases Khan’s cock and gazes up dazedly.

“Wha…what?”

Khan’s face is flushed, his pupils wide with pleasure, but he’s also wearing that haunted look again – the same look he wore right before he fled Jim’s quarters a few nights ago, as if all of Hell’s armies were on his heels.

Khan’s breathing has gone heavy, though not with desire, but with what Jim now recognizes as fear. The augment shakes his head as if to throw off a spell, pushes Jim even further away, and gets up on trembling legs. There is a deafening screech as Khan’s chair is pulled back, and the sound of a zipper closing.

Jim takes a few breaths to calm down. He still can’t make head nor tail of Khan’s behavior, but he’s not going to take no for an answer this time; he has to get to the bottom of this.

Khan, meanwhile, has sunk down on the edge of the bed, head buried in his hands. He cuts such a pitiful figure that Jim’s flare of irritation evaporates on the spot. Deciding not to waste any more time, he wipes his mouth, walks over to the bed, and sits down on the floor, at a safe distance so as to give Khan the space he needs.

“Care to tell me what that was all about?”  

Khan rubs his neck but doesn’t answer.

“Is it me? Is it something I did?”

When he still doesn’t get a reaction out of Khan, Jim decides to bite the bullet.

“Look, I get it. I know this can’t be what you had in mind. Bones may have said that your heat was triggered by you being attracted to me, but that’s just biology, right? That doesn’t mean that you’re actually…genuinely… _interested_ in me. I promise you, once your heat is over I will be out of your life, you won’t have anything to do with me unless –”

A sudden movement catches Jim’s attention. Khan has raised his head and is staring at Jim with such longing in his eyes that Jim has to use all his willpower not to jump Khan and pick up right where they left off.

Okay, so it really isn’t him, apparently. But what then?

With Khan remaining as mute as before, Jim is left to figure out the reason for the augment’s erratic behavior. When did it all start to go to hell? They were fine while they were kissing, both tonight and a few days ago. Khan seemed to be really into it. His hard-on was certainly an indication, and he didn’t object to Jim starting to jerk him off or suck his –

All of a sudden, Jim is struck by a flash of insight so powerful it has him gasping for breath.

“He made you come, didn’t he?” he blurts out. “Marcus. That’s why you can’t bear to be touched by me. He forced you to climax.”

There is a look of such deep self-disgust and loathing on Khan’s face that Jim instantly knows that he’s right. He closes his eyes with a sigh.

So that’s what it was. It makes a whole lot of sense, now Jim thinks about it. Becoming aroused by Jim reminded Khan of his time with Marcus, of being at the mercy of his body’s reactions, helpless to prevent his own arousal in front of the man who repeatedly raped him. Jim’s heart aches just imagining what it must have been like.

“Khan, it was just your body that reacted,” he tries to reassure him. “It’s a biomechanical process. There’s nothing you could have done.”

The silence that follows is stifling. Then Khan finally responds.

“I begged him to fuck me,” he says so quietly that Jim can barely hear it.

Jim draws in a sharp breath. “Khan, you can’t –”

“I asked him for it.”

“You were mad with heat, a heat Marcus induced. He manipulated you. You would have died!”

 “I meant _no_ , but I did everything he wanted. Everything he told me to.”

“Marcus threatened to kill your family. He blackmailed you with their lives. You did what you had to do to save them. It wasn’t your fault!”

Khan lets out a contemptuous snort and gets up off the bed, turning his back on Jim. Jim is left staring at the line of his back in the dim light from the dining table.

“You can’t deny yourself your own pleasure because of what that bastard did to you,” Jim says, his temper rising. “He used _you_ , not the other way round. You can’t go on punishing yourself for Marcus’s crimes!” Jim jumps up off the floor and takes a step closer to Khan. “If you do, he will have won. Don’t let him take that away from you!”

“Oh sure, because you’re all about what _I_ want and don’t have an agenda of your own,” Khan bites out. “You’re an Alpha, just like him.”

“I’m _nothing_ like Marcus,” Jim growls. “Don’t you dare compare me to that pig just because you’re feeling unsettled. I care about you, Khan, and I think I’ve proven it enough by now. Actually,” Jim ponders, hit by yet another revelation. “I think that’s what scares you the most. You pride yourself on being independent, on not relying on anybody, in your century or in this one. Even among your family, you are the one in charge, responsible for everybody else. It scares you to need someone else, doesn’t it? Someone who isn’t put off by your menacing demeanor?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Khan snaps, but Jim can see that he has hit a nerve.

“Just say the word and I’m out of here, Khan,” Jim challenges him. “Go on. Say that you don’t want me here and we’ll find another solution to your problem. I’ve bought you at least a few hours to keep the delirium at bay. Maybe we can wake up one of the other augments. There are bound to be a few Alphas among them, probably even one or two ex-lovers of yours, yes? Go on, then, say it. Say you’d rather be with one of them than with me right now.”

Khan lets out a growl that seems to emanate from the very depth of his gut and whips around to face him. His eyes are burning and for a split second, Jim seriously expects to be attacked. But then Khan just balls his hands into fists and fixes Jim with an intense glare.

“I don’t,” he says, his voice rough, “want you to go.”                                                         

Jim slowly lets out the breath he was holding. “Good. Neither do I.”

As Jim looks on, all the tension seems to seep out of Khan’s body. It’s almost like he’s deflating, shedding his armor and relinquishing the self-control he’d always hidden himself behind. His legs are shaking and he starts to sway on his feet, and it’s all Jim can do to keep him from falling.

“Come on,” he says, holding out an arm to steady Khan. “Let’s take this to bed.”

*~*~*

It’s not an easy task for Khan, giving himself over to somebody else, which makes Jim appreciate the offer all the more. He has divested Khan of his clothes and has told him to stretch out on the covers, laid out like a dish for Jim to savor. And savor it he does.

He starts with Khan’s toes, where he discovers to his delight that Khan is the tiniest bit ticklish, and works his way up his legs, paying special attention to the inside of his thighs while leaving his cock untouched for now. Jim spends a long time on Khan’s navel and even longer on each nipple, which he teases with lips and tongue and teeth, eliciting the most adorable little sounds from Khan.

All in all, Jim feels he should be congratulated: Khan’s body is far more relaxed and supple than it was half an hour ago when Jim had first suggested this plan and Khan had looked at him as if he had proposed a walk on the ship’s hull without spacesuits.

“This is about you,” Jim had to repeat over and over before Khan gave in, before he succumbed to the pleasure that Jim now so willingly gives him.

Jim steals a kiss before his hand travels lower, tracing a delicate line with his fingers over the taut muscles of Khan’s stomach, making goosebumps erupt all over the skin. Jim reaches lower and wraps his hand around Khan’s cock, keeping a lookout for any signs of displeasure. When he doesn’t find any, he starts stroking.

Khan lets out a guttural moan and arches off the mattress when Jim varies the pressure and lets his thumb glide over the glistening head, causing Khan’s breathing to become heavier. Only then does Jim bend down and swipe his tongue along the shaft, licking the length before sucking the head into his mouth.  

Khan’s whole body jerks in response, but now Jim also notices signs of the battle that has to be going on inside Khan’s head. Instead of relaxing further into Jim’s touch, his muscles seem to clench up. Jim doesn’t need the hand on his head this time to know that he needs to back off.

“Not…not like this,” Khan says hoarsely. Jim recognizes the excuse for what it is but doesn’t comment on it; a forced climax will do more harm than good at this point if Khan isn’t ready to let go.

“I need you inside me,” Khan mumbles, brushing a hand over Jim’s hair, his eyes at half-mast.

Jim, who has been ignoring his own aching hard-on for the better part of the last half hour, is more than happy to oblige. He directs Khan to lie on his side and lines up against his back, fingers travelling to Khan’s entrance to check if he is ready. He needn’t have worried, Khan is still wet to his touch. His hole twitches when Jim circles it with his finger and Khan lets out a low hiss.

“Get on with it,” he growls, bumping his ass against Jim’s hard-on.

“Pushy,” Jim chuckles and positions himself. He doesn’t meet any resistance and slides in with one smooth stroke, Khan’s passage enveloping him until Jim is completely sheathed within.

He has to take a moment to catch his breath, for the feeling of Khan all around him, his alluring scent, the knowledge that this is _Khan_ − and he wants Jim to be here − is almost more than Jim can grasp.

Then he starts moving.

It takes him a few thrusts to find Khan’s prostate, but the moment he does, Khan lets out a loud moan. Jim reaches around Khan to wrap a hand around his cock and starts pumping again. Khan shudders against him, now caught between the double sensations of Jim’s hand around him and Jim’s cock massaging his prostate with each thrust.

“It’s too… It’s too much,” Khan stutters, covering Jim’s hand with his in a half-hearted attempt to push it away. “I can’t –”

“You can do this. Just let go,” Jim whispers in his ear. “It’s me, just you and me. I’ve got you. Just let go.”

Once again, Jim can feel the fighting that goes on inside Khan, the shameful memory of what he experienced with Marcus clashing with the genuine arousal he is experiencing at Jim’s hands. Jim keeps whispering soothing mantras in Khan’s ear, hoping against hope that his words will reach him somehow, will help him keep the ghosts at bay.

Then all at once Khan gives a huge jerk and Jim can practically feel him let go of his control. Khan’s hips are buckling and he cries out before spurting his release all over Jim’s hand.

Jim continues to stroke him until he stills, kissing the back of his neck and murmuring endearments against his skin. He barely registers his own orgasm, brought on by Khan’s muscles clenching around his cock, but that’s not what matters now. His priority is Khan.

“You okay?” Jim asks, stroking the sweaty black hair with the hand that’s not covered in semen.

Khan nods against the pillow his face is buried in, his breathing slowly calming down. Jim can feel the knot swelling at the base of his cock and carefully withdraws, firmly stomping down the urge to link with Khan even more intimately. With a small pang of regret, he sits up against the headboard, caressing Khan’s back.

That’s when Jim feels the first tremors. It starts with a shaking of Khan’s shoulders and spreads down his back and thighs until Khan’s whole body is trembling. His breath catches and to his horror, Jim identifies the sounds Khan is making as sobs. They are building up like a wave, wracking Khan’s body like a tempest, and all Jim can do is to watch and offer what little comfort he can.

“It’s all right. Ssh, it’s all right,” he murmurs in Khan’s ear while the augment sobs out his misery. Inside, Jim’s heart is breaking. If only Marcus were still alive; Jim vows he would kill him a thousand times over.

Finally, the fit seems to be subsiding. The tremors are ebbing away and Khan’s breathing evens out again. Jim slowly raises his head to find Khan gazing up at him with red-rimmed eyes. Jim bends down to kiss away what’s left of the tears.

“I’m –” Khan begins, a frown on his face, but Jim cuts him off.

“No. Don’t say you’re sorry. I’m sure you needed this.”

He kisses the corner of Khan’s mouth almost chastely, aware how wrung-out Khan must be from his emotional ordeal, as well as the effects of his heat, even though he would never admit to it.

Holding him tight, Jim thinks he would give anything right now to undo the suffering Khan had to endure under Marcus, but he knows that’s not how it works. He can’t change the past; all he can do is make sure that what Khan has now is better than what came before.

*~*~*

They make a silent pact not to mention Khan’s breakdown.

After a much-needed meal, they relocate to the shower, where they take their time exploring each other’s bodies, making ample use of Jim’s rather limited selection of soaps and shampoos. Khan is more relaxed than he has ever been in Jim’s presence, exhibiting a tender side Jim would not have thought possible of him. He comes down Jim’s throat while Jim fingers him and Jim doesn’t even need to be touched to reach his climax this time.

Spent and exhausted, they crawl under the blankets, where Jim curls up behind Khan and falls asleep.

He wakes up to an empty bed, wondering for a moment why he feels like he’s missing something important. Then Khan’s scent enters his nostrils, stronger than it was when they both went to bed, and Jim starts growing hard again.

He finds Khan hunched over the bathroom sink, clutching his stomach, his face a grimace of pain.

“What’s wrong?” Jim asks, hastily checking Khan’s reflection for anything out of the ordinary. “Do you need –”

Khan shakes his head. “Phantom pains,” he says through gritted teeth. “They come and go.”

It takes Jim a few seconds to get Khan’s meaning, but once he does, he has to clench his teeth against the flood of rage threatening to spill out of him.

“What happened?” he asks cautiously, leaning against the sink next to Khan, a silent offer of comfort should it be needed.

Khan sighs, massaging his abdomen as if he could still feel the life growing inside it. “When Marcus found out I was pregnant, he summoned me to his office,” he starts in a flat voice. “It was only him and a security guard, but they had some sort of electric clubs and I…”

“…didn’t dare fight back lest Marcus kill some of your crew,” Jim finishes the sentence, trembling with the effort of keeping his anger at bay.

Khan nods. “When they were done with me, they just left me there. I was weak and bleeding internally. I don’t even remember how I made it back to my quarters. It took me three days before I could work again. None of the staff seemed to notice.” He swallows. “An augment’s body is designed to withstand all kinds of physical trauma, but even we aren’t indestructible.”

“I’m sorry,” Jim says, meaning it with all his heart.

Khan shakes his head, his voice growing bitter. “Weeks later, during a routine examination, one of the doctors casually informed me that I wouldn’t be able to bear any more children.”

There is so much sadness in Khan’s eyes that Jim reaches out a hand to stroke his hair. To his surprise, Khan leans into the touch, then brings Jim’s hand to his mouth and presses a kiss against his palm.

They take it slowly after that, face to face with Jim splaying Khan over the sheets, their eyes locked the entire time. Jim’s heart is full to bursting while he watches the waves of pleasure passing over Khan’s face, relishing the knowledge that Khan is opening up for him, and him alone.

Jim’s knot is forming sooner this time and he can barely control the urge to pound into Khan, to lock their bodies together and fill the Omega up with his seed. He closes his eyes and bites his lip, lifting his hips so as to not bump Khan’s rim with the growing bulge, when suddenly there’s a firm hand on his thigh.

“Stay.”

“What?”

“I want you to.”

Jim searches Khan’s face for any signs of uncertainty, but all he discovers is eagerness and trust and need. He can feel his heartbeat picking up speed.

“Roll onto your stomach.”

Changing positions means separating for a moment and Jim lets out a strangled whimper when his rock-hard cock hits the air. Once Khan has moved, Jim lies on top of him again, spreading Khan’s cheeks and lining up his cock. Khan raises his hips for better access and Jim pushes in, setting a rhythm that grows more frantic by the minute.

“Do it,” Khan groans, sounding impatient.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Jim gasps. 

“You won’t. Just do it.”

So Jim lets go. With three final powerful thrusts he shoves forward, breaching Khan, who tenses for a moment but soon relaxes again. Jim can feel his knot sliding home inside Khan, linking them together, sealing their bond.

What follows is the longest orgasm Jim has ever experienced in his life. It feels like it’s going on forever, and that Khan is a receptacle built solely to take in his seed. Spurt after spurt is pulsing out of Jim, and when he’s finally empty, he collapses on top of Khan, utterly spent.

Once his breathing has evened out he intertwines his legs with Khan’s and buries his face in his neck, basking in the afterglow.

“How are you so perfect?”

Khan chuckles. “It’s genetics.”

Jim joins in the laughter and wraps his arms around the augment. Half asleep he wonders if Khan came at the same time he did, as the sheets beside him are covered with come, but he is too drowsy to hold on to the thought.

They stay linked for hours, occasionally dozing off, engaging in leisurely sex whenever the need stirs them again. Jim has never felt this close to anyone.

*~*~*

A buzzing like that of an angry bee wakes Jim and he actually makes a swatting gesture at the empty air before realizing it’s the intercom. Letting himself fall back against the pillows, he notices that his knot must have deflated at some point while he was out. Khan is still sound asleep beside him, his chest rising slowly with every breath he takes.

The buzzing is relentless, so Jim withdraws his now flaccid cock, careful not to wake Khan, and groans when the muscles in his thighs and back protest at the movement. There are pins and needles in his right foot, causing Jim to hobble more than walk over to the intercom next to the door.

“Kirk here.”

“Captain,” says a familiar voice in a Klingon accent, “Your time is up. I need you to beam over to the _Vor’nak_. I’m sending my first to retrieve you.”

“Acknowledged,” Jim says. “Just give me a few minutes to get ready.”

Gorkon grunts something in Klingon, probably an affirmative, and closes the connection.

Jim sighs and lets his gaze sweep over Khan’s sleeping form, taking in the black locks of hair, the curve of his thigh draped languidly over the covers, and the delicious little mole at the back of Khan’s neck Jim only discovered when they were knotted.

The warmth that fills his chest at the sight of his lover − _his_ _Omega_ − almost makes him choke up. Jim hates having to leave their little nest, but tells himself that he’ll be back before long to make sure that Khan is all right.

With difficulty, Jim tears his gaze away and heads for the bathroom.


	9. Part Three (7)

Gorkon’s first, to Jim’s dismay, turns out to be the Klingon who led the boarding party on the  _Enterprise_ bridge the day before – a tall, wild-eyed fellow with a propensity for hauling people out of chairs. His manners haven’t improved since and it’s only due to Jim’s insistence and his aptitude at sign language that he finds out the Klingon’s name is K’retok. He seems to have a perpetual scowl carved into his face along with his forehead ridges – or maybe he just doesn’t like humans.

K’retok leads Jim to the transporter room, where another Klingon is stationed to beam them over to the _Vor’nak_.

It’s a strange feeling for Jim to walk outside his quarters again after the intense twelve hours he shared with Khan. Part of him wishes he could still be there, to stay with Khan until his heat is well and truly over, but it can’t be helped – there’s Charlize Hunter and the _Vengeance_ to deal with, and Jim has an inkling that the admiral doesn’t respond well to being stalled.

This is also going to be the first time Jim sets foot on a Klingon ship and he can’t deny that he’s rather curious about the experience. There are so few recorded encounters between the Federation and the Klingon Empire that didn’t result in mutual annihilation that he may well be the first Starfleet captain ever to board a Klingon vessel and live to tell the tale – provided Gorkon doesn’t change his mind about cooperating, that is.

The first impression Jim gets when he materializes in the _Vor’nak_ ’s transporter room is one of constriction: Klingon ship designers seem to have a fondness for angles, which, combined with a penchant for bulkiness, gives their architecture a rather compressed flair. The impression is not helped by the room’s gloomy lighting that sifts through a number of grilled air vents in the ceiling.

The interior design stays consistent on their way along narrow corridors. They pass other crew members from time to time, who salute K’retok and receive a gruff reply in response, but all in all, the ship appears to be rather sparsely manned.  

The thing that’s really hard to get used to, though, is the smell, a pungent earthy scent Jim has noticed on Klingons before, but which is even more pronounced here. Jim tries not to let on how much it bothers him and focusses on the unfamiliar surroundings instead.

Before long, they have reached the bridge of the _Vor’nak_. Jim’s feeling of claustrophobia increases when he actually has to duck under a support beam that’s built right across the entrance for no apparent reason.

K’retok leads Jim before the captain’s chair, which looks more like a throne than anything else: raised on a platform in the center of the room, it towers over the other stations against a canvas of red. The emblem of the Klingon Empire, a sort of sharp-edged triskelion against a circle, is painted on the few inches of floor that are not taken up by people or machinery.

“Kirk,” Gorkon greets Jim from his spot in the captain’s chair. “About time. Your Starfleet friends out there are growing impatient.” He points to the viewscreen, which shows the _Vengeance_ facing them, massive and menacing.

“They are not my friends,” Jim corrects Gorkon and steps up to the viewscreen to take a closer look. “What’s our status?”

“The last message from your Admiral Hunter came in an hour ago,” Gorkon says. “It appears she no longer believes our excuse about a communications malfunction.”

“Too bad,” Jim says distractedly, in his mind already going through some possible scenarios. “Has she given you an ultimatum?”

“Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time. We will need to prepare ourselves for battle.”

Jim turns, wide-eyed. “Are you serious? You mean to go up against that ship out there? That’s suicide!”

Gorkon huffs. “Death is an experience best shared, wouldn’t you say, Captain?”

Jim frowns at the Klingon, but he doesn’t appear to be joking this time. “You won’t stand a chance. Even with our two ships combined, we’d be hard put to defeat the _Vengeance_. She’s practically a fortress.”

“Then we will die with honor,” Gorkon concludes, rising from his chair and walking away as though the matter was closed.

Jim shakes his head in a vain attempt to grasp the captain’s mindset. He has heard of the Klingons’ thirst for battle of course, but he hadn’t realized how keen they were to actually _die_ in one.

“There may be an alternative,” he hears a familiar voice say. Jim strains to pierce the dimness of the bridge and, to his surprise, recognizes none other than Spock standing behind one of the consoles, looking for all intents and purposes as though he belonged there, despite his blue Starfleet uniform and pointed ears.

“I have scanned the _Vengeance_ and it occurred to me that we could use the ship’s prefix code to lower her shields,” Spock continues. “Even with her weapons still operable, it would give us a decisive advantage should an altercation prove inevitable.”

Jim joins Spock behind the console he’s working at, trying to make sense of the readings on the display. It shows a schematic of the _Vengeance_ surrounded by a myriad of Klingon signs and symbols.

“We could use the _Vor’nak_ to create a diversion,” Jim says, mulling over Spock’s suggestion. “Keep the _Vengeance_ busy while we make our escape.”

Spock nods, evidently thinking along the same lines. “There is just one problem. The _Enterprise_ is in no fit state to move. Mr. Scott couldn’t even give me an estimate on how long repairs are going to take.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Jim says. “Maybe we can ask Gorkon to send over some of his crew to lend a hand. Speed things up a bit.”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “I’m not sure Mr. Scott will endorse a plan that involves having Klingons running loose in engineering.”

“That’s why I won’t ask for his permission,” Jim says with a wry smile.

“Agreed. The question that remains is how to obtain the _Vengeance_ ’s top secret prefix code.”

“Oh, come on, Spock, you wouldn’t have suggested this in the first place if you hadn’t thought it through.”

Spock nods, conceding the point. “It would be useful if we were privy to Khan’s extensive knowledge of the _Vengeance_.”

“I’ll ask him. I’m sure he’ll be happy to help.”

Spock opens his mouth, but hesitates for a moment before addressing Jim again. “May I ask if your mission was successful, Captain?”

“My…mission?” Jim chuckles, amused by Spock’s awkwardness. “Yes, all went well with Khan, thanks for asking.” He allows himself to give the Vulcan a rare pat on the back before he turns to leave.

Letting Gorkon in on their plan will have to wait until Jim is sure it can be pulled off. To his relief, the Klingon captain is still in a generous mood, allowing Jim to beam back to the _Enterprise_ to check on Scotty’s progress − accompanied once more by K’retok, who seems to have been bullied into acting as Jim’s personal watchdog.

When Jim arrives in engineering, he almost trips over Chekov, who is lying face down on the floor over an open hatch, apparently trying to repair a broken plasma conduit. Scotty is nowhere to be seen, but Jim can hear his voice coming from behind a console.

“Try re-routing the secondary power relay.”

Once Jim has rounded the corner, he sees Scotty kneeling on the floor amidst a jumble of tools and wires, talking into his communicator.

“Still nothing? All right, lassie, then let me try again on my end. Scott out.”

“Is that Uhura on the bridge?” Jim asks when Scotty spots him and gets to his feet.

“Aye, she’s up there with Sulu. We’re trying to get the main propulsion system back online. No luck yet.” Scotty scowls, his arms akimbo.  

“What do you need?”

“Give me fifty more engineers and I might have the ship up and running in a day or two.”

“We don’t have a day or two. Hunter means business. I doubt we have more than a few hours left before she makes her move.”

“Then you better think of something fast, Captain, because the _Enterprise_ isn’t going anywhere any time soon.”

“Scotty,” Jim says, taking a step closer. “You’re a miracle worker, you always have been. If anyone can make the impossible happen, it’s you.”

Scotty lets out a long-suffering breath. “I’m sorry, Captain. Not this time. It just can’t be done. The damage to the _Enterprise_ is too extensive.”

“What if I were to find you some extra hands to assist with the repairs?”

Scotty gives a humorless laugh. “I know what you’re thinking, Captain, but I need trained engineers, not a bunch of cavemen who cannot tell their right hand from their left.”

Jim grimaces, irritated to have his suggestion refuted so easily.

“Fine,” he says, clenching his teeth. “I’ll find another way. Just do your best, Scotty.”

“Aye, Captain.”

K’retok is waiting for Jim when he exits engineering and silently falls in step with him. Originally, Jim had planned to drop by medbay to make sure that Bones was all right, but now he realizes that it’s high time to check in on Khan. Jim doesn’t know how long the augment’s heats usually last and doesn’t want to risk Khan becoming too worked up in his absence.

On the way to his quarters, Jim struggles to come to grips with the Hunter situation. If they can’t use the _Enterprise_ to escape, the only solution is to leave her behind and try to reach Earth on the _Vor’nak_. It’s a risky move, taking a Klingon ship that deeply into Federation space; the _Vor’nak_ may be equipped with a cloaking device, but who knew how Starfleet patrols would react the minute she showed up in Earth’s orbit. And that was assuming that Gorkon agreed to let them use his ship in the first place, _and_ they somehow managed to escape the _Vengeance_ unscathed.

Jim takes a moment to clear his mind when he reaches his quarters, trying to shake off his worries in order to focus his attention back on Khan. It helps somewhat to know that Gorkon has promised to alert him the minute Hunter makes a move.

Jim pointedly bids goodbye to K’retok, who scowls at him in response, and unlocks the door.

Khan is in exactly the same place where Jim left him a couple of hours ago: sleeping on his side, the sheets draped tantalizingly around his naked limbs, a stunning picture of beauty. Jim’s heart beats faster while he looks at him, inhaling Khan’s heady scent that tells Jim it was a good thing he didn’t linger and made it back here quickly instead.

Jim wastes no time taking off his clothes and climbs into bed next to Khan, his cock already half-hard. That’s when he realizes that Khan’s body is twitching in his sleep and that his breathing is rather erratic. He seems to be having a nightmare.

Jim is just wondering what would be the best way to rouse Khan when there’s a loud moan and Khan’s movements become more agitated. He starts tossing and turning, lashing out as though he was fighting something – or someone.

Jim can feel his throat closing up. He decides not to waste any more time and puts a hand on Khan’s arm.

“Khan. Khan? It’s me, Jim. Wake up.”

When there’s no reaction, he tries shaking Khan gently.

“Come on, baby, wake up. It’s me, it’s okay. Everything’s fine.”

Khan moans again and turns away from Jim, who grabs Khan’s shoulder and shakes it again, harder this time. It seems to do the trick, for Khan stills and, after a brief pause, looks over his shoulder at Jim. His eyes are wide and he looks disoriented, as though he didn’t know where he was or who he was with.

“It’s okay,” Jim says, stroking Khan’s rumpled hair. “You’re safe. It was just a nightmare.”

“Jim?” Khan asks, still quite out of it.

Jim can’t prevent himself from smiling at the sound of his name. “Yes. Yes, it’s me.”

Khan seems to slowly come back to his senses. He sits up and rubs a weary hand over his face. “I was back…at the Io Facility. Marcus −”

“Ssh,” Jim says, a hand on Khan’s back.

Khan shakes his head as if to rid himself of the images that must still be haunting him. All of a sudden, he goes rigid and looks straight at Jim. “You were gone.”

Jim swallows, unprepared for the stab of guilt that goes through him at Khan’s words. “I had to leave. There were some things I had to take care of.” When Khan still looks at him apprehensively, he adds: “I’m sorry.”

Khan nods, apparently deep in thought. Then he seems to remember, “The Klingons. Hunter. Is she still out there?”

“Yes, but that’s not what matters now. Gorkon has an eye on her. I’m here for _you_.”

Khan studies Jim’s face for a while longer, but eventually leans in to kiss him. Jim parts his lips for Khan and allows his hands to roam the now familiar body, eliciting small moans from Khan that have nothing to do with the nightmare he just left behind.

Before long, Khan has resettled into Jim’s lap, riding him with slow, languorous thrusts. Jim can’t get enough of Khan’s mouth and only lets go when Khan’s movements are growing more desperate. Gasping for air, Jim reaches for Khan’s cock and starts stroking it, making Khan shudder and writhe against him in response.

Khan comes right before Jim does, spurting his release between them, and rests his forehead against Jim’s.

They don’t move for a long time after they’ve stilled, content to breathe the same air, to share the same space, without intent or purpose. To Jim, this feels almost as intimate as being knotted – which, unfortunately, is something they simply don’t have the time for now.

“I need the bathroom,” Khan says eventually, wriggling out of Jim’s embrace and getting up.

Jim lets out a sigh of regret when his spent cock slips out of Khan’s body, but he quickly pulls himself together and goes to look for his clothes. He is just putting on his boots when Khan returns, still naked but cleaned up, his look clearer than it has been since his heat began.

“What are you going to do about the _Vengeance_?” he asks without preamble.

Jim has to take a moment to switch from his contemplation of Khan’s abs to the stark reality of Charlize Hunter wanting their heads on a platter. “Spock has this idea that we could override the _Vengeance_ ’s controls and get her to lower her shields by using the ship’s prefix code.”

“And then what?”

“We make our escape on the _Vor’nak_. Try to reach Earth and contact the Federation Council. At least, that’s the plan.”

Khan snorts. “Not much of a plan.”

“Excuse me?”

“The _Vengeance_ is at least three times more powerful than any ship the Klingons have patrolling their border; I’m guessing a D4 or D5 class cruiser, am I right?”

“D5,” Jim confirms.

“Not to mention that the _Vengeance_ ’s transwarp drive has undoubtedly been repaired by now. How exactly are you planning to escape her?”

“Once her shields are down, we will target her engines. Cripple her so she can’t pursue us.”

“…while Hunter will undoubtedly make use of the _Vengeance_ ’s full weapons capabilities and blow you to smithereens before you have even moved a parsec.”

“Look, I know it’s not a perfect plan,” Jim says, his anger rising, but Khan cuts him off.

“What about the _Enterprise_?”

“The _Enterprise_ won’t be fit to move in time. It’ll take weeks to repair her.”

“Not if you have enough manpower.”

“Don’t you think I haven’t considered that? Even if Gorkon had the people to spare, Klingons aren’t exactly trained in Starfleet engineering. There’s no way they could manage.”

Khan is silent for a few moments. He looks at Jim with a watchful expression on his face.

“My crew could do it.”

Jim frowns at him. “What?”

“My crew could conduct the repairs. They are above-average in intelligence, physical strength, motor skills – and there’s certainly enough of them.”

Jim stares at Khan. “You want me to wake up the rest of the augments?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

Jim clears his throat, taken aback by Khan’s suggestion. “Well, to be blunt, it wouldn’t exactly be my first choice.”

“Why not?”

“Khan, your people are condemned criminals.”

“So am I, yet you risked your life to break me out of prison.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“I know you.”

“And I know them. I can vouch for each and every member of my crew.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Khan narrows his eyes at Jim. “You don’t trust me.”

“What?”

“You don’t trust me to keep them in line. You’re afraid that they might rebel against you and take over your ship, with me unable to stop them.”

Jim shakes his head, even though the thought _had_ crossed his mind. There were seventy-two augments on board, each one of them genetically engineered to be “superior” to the average human being – human beings like Jim and his crew. Who was to say that the augments wouldn’t take over the moment they were woken up and allowed free reign on the _Enterprise_? With their abilities, they could easily overpower Jim’s people and probably take out the whole Klingon crew while they were at it.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t risk it,” Jim says. “This has nothing to do with you; I just don’t think it’s a good idea to open up my ship to six dozen Napoleons and Catherine the Greats.”

Khan snarls. “It’s not a risk if you believe in my ability to control them.”

“Khan,” Jim says, willing the augment to see reason. “Can you honestly say that you have insight into the mind of every single member of your crew? If only one of them decides to step out of line, we’ll be screwed far worse than we already are. We’ll have a rampant superhuman on the loose – _again_ − and forgive me, but two Starfleet buildings destroyed and a few dozen dead is quite enough, wouldn’t you say?”

There’s a flash of anger on Khan’s face so fierce that Jim has the sudden urge to duck. The thing that really gets to him though is the look of genuine hurt underneath.

It’s not that Jim doesn’t appreciate how difficult it must be for Khan to hear the truth about himself and his crew; he just doesn’t see the point of beating around the bush when it came to the very real threat the augments posed, not only to the _Enterprise_ , but to everyone they interacted with.

Khan, meanwhile, has turned his back on Jim and has started to get dressed. Jim rubs a hand over his face and decides to try this from a different angle.

“Look, once we’re back on Earth, I’m sure we can find another solution. The Federation Council is going to determine what to do about the cryotubes. Maybe then, they can be opened up in a safe environment −”

“That’s the difference between you and me, Kirk,” Khan says, pulling down his shirt. “You still think of them as cryotubes. To me, they are _family_.”

Jim swallows hard, stung by Khan’s accusatory tone and the sudden return to his last name.

“That wasn’t what I –” he starts, but is interrupted by Khan, whose eyes have turned to steel.

“I doubt I will require your company again for the time being. With your _permission_ , I am going to see if there is need for me in engineering.”

Khan doesn’t wait for Jim’s answer but storms out the door without another word. Jim is left staring at his retreating back, feeling both angry and regretful all at once.

“Khan!” he yells, hurtling out into the corridor, but Khan has already disappeared around a corner.

The two Klingon guards on either side of the door are looking quizzically at each other, clearly at a loss how to react. Jim dimly registers that K’retok seems to have left his post, but right now, Jim couldn’t care less about Gorkon’s first. He looks up and down the corridor, undecided whether he should follow Khan or let him cool off on his own.

That’s when Shenara comes rushing along, thick mane of hair floating behind her and holding a communicator in her hand.

“Kirk!” she shouts when she spots Jim. She spouts a few lines in Klingon and offers him the communicator. Jim tentatively accepts it.

“Yes?” he says into the unfamiliar device, not sure whether anything else was required to make it work.

“Kirk,” Gorkon’s voice answers. “I bought us another five hours.”

“How did you manage that?” Jim asks, impressed.

“I have my ways. But be warned that this is going to be our last respite. We will need to make our move as soon as possible.”

“Acknowledged. I’ll let you know when I’ve figured something out.”

“Make it quick,” Gorkon says darkly and logs off.

Jim gives the communicator back to Shenara with a sigh. He will have to postpone going after Khan, like it or not. The important thing now is to work out a plan how to survive past the next five hours. Maybe then, Jim will find a way to make it up to Khan.

*~*~*

Bones is leaning over a monitor when Jim enters medbay, frowning at whatever it is he’s reading. To Jim’s immense relief, he has changed into a new uniform and the gash on his forehead seems to have healed.

Bones looks up when he hears the door open. “Jim! How did it go with Khan?”

“Fine,” Jim says distractedly. “He’s going to be all right.”

“Any problems?”

“A few, but they were dealt with.”

“Told you you could do it,” Bones says, his face splitting into a grin. “You seem to have a knack for this psychology business. Maybe you should consider a career change.”

“After all this is over, I might have to,” Jim replies, more dully than he had intended.

Bones grimaces. “Something wrong?” he asks, studying Jim. “You don’t exactly have the air of a man who just spent the last twelve hours having fantastic sex.”

“It’s this Hunter business,” Jim says, aware it’s only half the truth. His eyes fall on the monitor in front of Bones, which shows some kind of complex organism that looks a bit like a pine cone on six spindly legs.

“What’s that?” Jim asks, pointing at the screen.

“The virus Section 31 created to annihilate the Klingons. I managed to duplicate the process by using Kati’s blood and Gorkon’s. It’s one hell of a mix.”

“Can you synthesize an antigen?”

“Even if I could, I’m not sure how much use it would be. We may have convinced Gorkon of the truth, but there’s no guarantee that the rest of his planet will see it that way. To be blunt, I doubt that even his crew does. Have you seen how some of them are still looking at us?”

“I have,” Jim says, thinking of K’retok and his grouchy demeanor.

“Anyway, I’m not wasting my time working on an antigen when I’ve got six dozen frozen superhumans to take care of. And of course, I’m still counting on you to save the day and stop Section 31 in time to rescue the Klingons.”  He winks at Jim, who can’t help chortling.

Bones mentioning the augments reminds Jim once again of the argument he just had with Khan. Allowing his thoughts to stray, he turns away from Bones and walks over to the biobeds. An unconscious woman is lying on one of them − pretty, dark hair, amazing body. She looks harmless, innocent almost, yet Jim knows that she has the potential to be just as lethal a killer as Khan when the mood strikes him.

“Care to tell me what’s _really_ bugging you?” Bones asks quietly from behind Jim. He must have followed Jim here from his office.

Jim sighs, realizing that there’s no point in evading, however much he wants to right now. He knows from past experience that Bones won’t let this go until Jim has spilled the beans.

“Khan wants me to wake up the rest of the augments,” he says, letting his gaze sweep over Kati’s sleeping form. “He says his crew would be able to repair the _Enterprise_ in time to escape Hunter.”

“Oh,” Bones says pensively. “Well. That’s…actually not a bad idea.”

Jim turns to him, gaping. “You’re kidding, right?”

Bones shrugs. “All I’m saying is, Hunter has an army. It wouldn’t hurt if we had one, too.”

“Even if it’s made up of genetically engineered convicts?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Bones says with a crooked smile that vanishes quickly when he takes in Jim’s face. “Look, I’m not saying that it’s a _good_ idea to wake them up. But our options right now are depressingly limited. And as long as Khan is on our side…”

“It would be like opening Pandora’s Box,” Jim interrupts him. “There’s no way we’d be able to control the lot once they’re on the loose.”

“Khan might. He’s their leader. I mean, think about it − he got them to take a trip into outer space as popsicles, destination unknown. If he can manage _that_ …” Bones breaks off, considering Jim. “Don’t you trust Khan?”

Jim squirms a little, uncomfortably aware that Khan just asked him the same question.

“I _do_ , but…what if he changes his mind? What if he turns on us once he’s reunited with his family?” He fidgets with the blanket draped over Kati’s body before voicing his most pressing concern. “What if he forgets all about us once they’re awake?”

A picture rises in Jim’s mind then – dead bodies, phaser fire, the Daystrom Conference Room in shambles. Khan on a jumpship, his cold grey eyes fixed on Jim as they faced each other for the first time. The chill that went through Jim while watching on as the augment took out an entire room full of Starfleet officials by himself.

Bones clears his throat. “Well, as far as I can tell, Khan has an eidetic memory. Even if he wanted to, I doubt he’d be able to forget us – or you,” he adds with a meaningful look at Jim.

Jim mentally shakes himself to get rid of the intruding images. Bones is right. Khan wouldn’t just forget about all they had done for him these past weeks. He could count on Khan’s loyalty to the _Enterprise_ – couldn’t he?

“You’re the one who keeps telling me to be more trusting,” Bones says delicately. “Maybe this is an instance where you have to listen to your own advice and take a leap of faith.”

Jim nods and squares his jaw, silently weighing his options. When he has reached a decision, he straightens up and walks over to the intercom next to the door.

“The comm line’s still dead,” Bones tells him from behind. “Here.” He throws a portable communicator to Jim, who catches it one-handedly and activates it.

“Spock? It’s Jim. Meet me in medbay.” Jim lets his eyes stray over the dozens of cryotubes stacked along the wall, hoping against hope that he is making the right call. “We have a lot of work ahead of us.”

  


	10. Part Three (8)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stole a couple of lines from _Space Seed_ for this chapter. Kudos to anyone who recognizes them! :)

Medbay has suddenly become crowded. Sulu and Uhura, who arrived here from the bridge ten minutes ago, are lining up the cryotubes on every available piece of floor they can find for better access. Bones is deep in conversation with Spock, showing him the proper sequencing to open the cryotubes safely – something he probably learned from Khan. Even Gorkon has beamed over to the _Enterprise_ , accompanied by Shenara, and is watching the preparations with barely concealed amazement.

“Are you telling me,” he asks Jim, “that three hundred years ago, your world decided to send your greatest warriors into space, never to return?”

“Not exactly,” Jim says. “The augment tyrants were condemned as criminals, but they chose to escape into space rather than accept their sentence.”

“Nevertheless, your warriors were made to feel unwanted on your home planet.”

“I guess so,” Jim concedes.

Gorkon exchanges a look with Shenara that quite clearly conveys his puzzlement over human culture.

While they are talking, Bones leaves Spock’s side and joins them next to Kati’s biobed. “All right, we’re all set to go. I think it’s best to wait for Khan, though, before we begin waking them up.”

“He should be here any minute,” Jim says, slightly apprehensive in seeing Khan again. They haven’t spoken since Khan stormed out after their heated argument in Jim’s quarters. “I told Scotty to fill him in and send him up here straight away.”

“Good,” Bones says, readying a hypospray and pulling back the blanket draped over Kati’s body. Jim can see now that she’s wearing a tight red jumpsuit that accentuates every muscle in her well-toned body. And she’s unmistakably an Alpha, Jim’s nose tells him.

Kati’s pheromones, however, get mixed up almost immediately with another scent – one that has become so familiar to Jim that he needn’t have turned around to know that Khan just entered medbay. Jim has to bite the inside of his cheek in order to stifle the flash of arousal that courses through him. Khan’s scent is still heady, calling out to Jim like a siren song. Whatever Khan may have told Jim earlier, his heat is far from over.

Khan has stopped in his tracks by the door as he takes it all in – Jim’s crew at work, the cryotubes on the floor, and Kati on the biobed with Jim, Bones, and the two Klingons grouped around her. Kahn’s eyes find Jim’s and linger for a moment, but there are too many feelings in his look for Jim to identify them all.

Finally, Khan unfreezes and slowly approaches the biobed. He looks down at Kati with such affection that Jim’s heart beats a little faster. Khan takes up her lifeless hand and gently squeezes it before acknowledging the people around him.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Bones says.

“You may proceed, Doctor,” Khan answers, his voice thick with emotion.

Bones throws a glance at Jim, who nods his assent, and empties the hypospray into Kati’s arm.

It only takes a few seconds before Kati’s eyelids begin to flutter and her breathing becomes deeper. The faint beep of the heart-rate monitor is picking up speed. Khan leans over her and softly calls her name. Kati opens her eyes and, upon seeing Khan, breaks into a smile.

“We survived,” she whispers hoarsely.

“Yes, we did,” Khan says, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face.

“You have proven your superior intellect,” Kati says, still smiling at Khan. She tries to move her legs and arms and, after a few attempts, manages to sit up with Khan supporting her. That’s when Kati notices the group of people around her bed and gives a start at the sight of the two Klingons.

“They are…allies,” Khan explains, grimacing slightly.

“How long?” Kati asks, looking up at Khan with wide eyes.

“Over two hundred years,” Khan answers.

“Look, I’m sorry to cut this lovely reunion short,” Bones interrupts. “But we are a little pressed for time.” He holds up another hypospray and injects Kati with it. “This will help you get on your feet a little faster.”

“Right,” Jim says, tearing his gaze away from the two augments to address his crew. “Spock, Bones, start waking up the rest of Khan’s people. Uhura and Sulu, you will take them down to engineering in groups as soon as they are strong enough to walk. Scotty is already working out a duty roster.”

Jim turns to Khan. “I need you to stay here until all of them are awake. Tell them what you have to in order to get them to cooperate, but don’t waste time. You can fill them in on the details once we’re ready to move.”

Khan nods, still clinging to Kati’s hand as though afraid she would vanish if he were to let go.

“And you, Captain, are now going to confide your plan to me, I’m hoping?” Gorkon asks in a booming voice.

“Of course. Why don’t you join me in Dr. McCoy’s office?” Jim gestures to the adjacent room and leads the two Klingons away from the crowd around Kati’s bed. Gorkon has apparently ordered Shenara back to the _Vor’nak_ , for she leaves medbay after a hurried salute.

While relaying his plan to the Klingon captain, Jim can’t keep his eyes from straying to the observation window to watch the proceedings outside. Bones and Spock are walking from cryotube to cryotube, opening them up and injecting their occupants with what Jim gathers to be stimulants to help speed up the unfreezing process.

When they arrive at the fifth cryotube, Jim notices the first augment beginning to stir. Khan is at his side in an instant, taking care of him just as he did with Kati earlier: talking to him, helping him up, offering an affectionate touch before moving on to the next cryotube and repeating the process.

This goes on for quite some time as more and more augments begin to wake. Most of them are dizzy and confused at first, but they soon find their bearings, climb out of their cryotubes, and start stretching their muscles.

It’s an eerie sight to watch, uncannily reminiscent of vampires stirring in their coffins once it has grown dark outside. The analogy sends a shiver down Jim’s spine and he tries to focus his thoughts on something more uplifting, like the way Khan’s smile grows broader with every augment that awakens. He is positively beaming with joy by the time he is through greeting the first dozen, occasionally hugging a long-lost family member and receiving pats on the back from others.

The augments that are already strong enough to move about join Khan in his efforts to help the others adjust to their new environment, Kati prominent among them. They’re all wearing red jumpsuits similar to hers, marking them as members of the same collective. An army indeed.

Jim is distracted from his contemplation when Gorkon pointedly clears his throat and poses the one question Jim really doesn’t want to hear.

“So once the _Vengeance_ ’s shields are down and the _Vor’nak_ has engaged her – how are you going to prevent your Admiral Hunter from going after the _Enterprise_ as soon as she notices your ship powering up?”

“You will have to target the _Vengeance_ ’s engines first,” Jim says. “Disable her warp drive. Khan will give you the exact location.”

“What if we don’t succeed?”

Jim sighs. “Then we are going to have a problem.”

Gorkon rises from his chair and walks to the observation window, staring unseeingly at the happenings outside.

“I don’t think I have to remind you, Kirk, just how much is at stake here. The future of the entire Klingon Empire hinges on the success or failure of your mission. If you don’t stop your superiors from releasing the pathogen into our planet’s atmosphere, there is no hope for us left.”

He pauses. “My influence on Qo’noS is limited. I will not be able to convince many of my fellow warriors that a human Starfleet captain actually means to help us. Nor would they accept your help if they believed me.” Gorkon turns to look at Jim. “We are a proud people, Kirk.”

“I appreciate that,” Jim says, drumming his fingers on the desk between them. “But there’s nothing else I can think of to stop the _Vengeance_. You’re already taking the biggest risk, engaging her in battle. I can ask no more of you.”

“We will offer your Admiral Hunter a fight that will be remembered for decades to come!” Gorkon rumbles, a spark in his eyes. “But it is on your Earth that the true battle will be fought.”

“Well, unless you can get your hands on a transwarp beaming device to transport us there directly, I really don’t see how I can guarantee –”

“Leave it to me,” Gorkon says ominously. “I have many resources.”

Jim studies the Klingon’s determined face and nods, intrigued. “All right, I will.”

“ _Qapla’_!” Gorkon makes a gesture that’s probably meant as a goodbye and marches out of the office.

Medbay is alive with the chatter of at least thirty augments when Jim walks back in. Uhura and Sulu have already started dividing them up to lead them down to engineering. The augments, Jim notices, are a diverse group despite their uniform attire, apparently originating from all over Earth, the men slightly outnumbering the women.

Jim joins Bones and Spock next to the cryotube they are currently working on. The device makes a hissing noise as the lid begins to lift, revealing a startlingly beautiful woman who appears to be of Latin American descent. Bones has just injected a hypospray into her neck when suddenly, there’s an anguished outcry.

“Doctor!”

Jim can tell immediately that it’s Khan. He sounds positively terrified.

Bones is on his feet in an instant, rushing over to where Khan’s voice is coming from.

“Move!” Bones yells, cutting through the crowd of augments to reveal Khan crouching beside a cryotube. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s not waking up,” Khan says, and now that Jim has come closer he can see that Khan is ashen-faced and trembling with worry. “At first, I thought it was just taking him longer, but his heart-rate seems to be slowing –”

“You’re right,” Bones says, running a medical scanner over the body. “His vitals are dropping. He’s not coming out of cryostasis. Help me get him onto a biobed!”

Khan takes it upon himself to lift the sleeping augment out of his tube and carry him over to the bed Bones is indicating. The monitors spring to life and Bones injects a hypospray into the augment’s arm, waiting for a reaction. When there is none, he prepares another hypospray.

“Ling!” Khan calls out, shaking the man, whose skin has taken on a waxy quality. All the other augments have fallen silent, looking on as Bones works feverishly to save their crewmate’s life.

“His lungs are failing,” Bones says. “I’ll have to ventilate him. Can everyone _please_ give me some room to work?” He looks pointedly at Khan, who swallows hard and takes a step back from the bed. The other augments exchange glances and reluctantly begin to disperse.

“I’ll take the first group down to engineering now, sir,” Uhura says quietly from Jim’s side.

“Good. The sooner they get to work, the better.”

Jim watches as Uhura rounds up about a dozen of the augments and leads them out of medbay. The rest of them continue to take care of their crewmates who are still in various states of waking. Spock hasn’t ceased in his efforts to open up the remaining cryotubes, now aided by Sulu.

Jim looks around to find Khan still lingering near Ling’s biobed, arms crossed in front of his chest and monitoring McCoy’s every move.

“Your friend is in good hands,” Jim says when he approaches Khan. “Bones is an excellent physician.”

Khan’s eyes swivel to Jim’s and hold them for a moment. It looks like there’s something he’s struggling to say, but the words won’t come. He contents himself with nodding at Jim, still taut as a bow string.

Jim is just thinking about offering Khan some sort of physical comfort when somebody calls the augment’s name loud enough to be heard across the entire medbay. Khan turns his head and his posture immediately relaxes. A smile breaks out on his face.

“Joaquin!”

A man makes his way through the crowd. He actually towers over the other augments, including Khan, by at least two inches. Despite his inarguably attractive face, his nose is a tad beaky. There’s no mistaking him for anything other than an Alpha; even without the pheromones, he’s practically an embodiment of strength and power.

Khan walks up to meet the man and the two of them embrace in what Jim is sure has to be a bone-crushing hug.

“We made it,” Joaquin says, not letting go of Khan’s shoulder once they’ve finished hugging. “I knew you would not lead us astray.”

Khan beams at the praise. “We have a bright future ahead of us,” he says. “Great challenges await.”

“So I’ve heard,” Joaquin says, studying Khan’s face. His brow creases and he takes in a deep breath. “You are not well, brother.” His hand travels to Khan’s chin and he lifts it to inspect Khan’s face more closely. “You will need companionship.”

“I’ll be all right for a while longer,” Khan says dismissively, clapping Joaquin’s shoulder in return. “First, we must take care of the others.”

Joaquin holds Khan’s gaze for a few seconds but eventually nods. That’s when Jim decides to make his presence felt.

“Care to introduce us?” he asks, throwing Khan a challenging look.

Khan clears his throat and lets go of Joaquin’s shoulder. “Of course. Kirk, this is my second-in-command. Joaquin, Captain James Kirk, commander of this vessel.”

“I see,” Joaquin says, shaking Jim’s hand, who struggles not to flinch at the powerful grip.

Joaquin’s eyes swivel from Khan to Jim and back again. Jim can tell that the augment has no difficulty figuring out what’s going on between them, and he doesn’t seem to like it much.

They are spared further awkwardness by the arrival of Bones, who joins them, looking exhausted.

“Ling will live,” he says, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel.

“My compliments,” Jim says, while Khan lets out an audible sigh of relief.

“Oh, I'm good, but not that good. There's something inside this man that refuses to accept death. His recuperative powers are off the scale. If I hadn’t seen it in Khan before, I wouldn’t have believed it possible.”

“We are superior in every way, Doctor,” Joaquin says, hands clasped behind his back.

“Yeah, sure,” Bones says, raising his eyebrows.

“Come,” Khan says, patting Joaquin’s shoulder and leading him towards the few cryotubes that haven’t been opened yet.

“Charming lot, aren’t they?” Bones says once they are out of earshot. “Really have a way of making you feel good about yourself.”

Jim shakes his head, unable to quell the twinge of envy he feels when he watches Khan and Joaquin together. They clearly complement each other, falling back into an easy camaraderie after centuries apart. _Brother_ , Joaquin called Khan earlier. Was that all they had been?

Jim resolutely turns away from the sight of them helping another augment out of her cryotube. It’s no use wondering about the past. Nonetheless, Jim can’t shake the feeling that Joaquin shares a connection with Khan that Jim isn’t privy to.

*~*~*

An hour later, the augments have been given their work assignments and are crawling all over engineering like a swarm of ants. Scotty seems to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown, shouting warnings and giving instructions and generally trying to be in four places at once. Keenser traipses behind him like some sort of miniature nursemaid, anxiously watching his every move. Jim is relieved to see that someone is keeping an eye on Scotty’s blood pressure.

Khan’s scent has become more pronounced in the past hour. It’s basically all Jim can sense once he enters engineering, scanning his surroundings for the source but unable to locate Khan amidst the hustle and bustle of the repairs going on.

Jim can make out quite a few other Omegas in the crowd though: the Latin American woman he witnessed being revived, a tall blond fellow with piercing blue eyes, two handsome Asian men who appear to be twins. None of their scents, though, can compare with Khan’s and the allure it has over Jim.

He is distracted by the arrival of Spock and Uhura, who make a beeline for him.

“The _Vor’nak_ is prepared,” Spock reports. “It would be advisable for us to beam over there as soon as possible.”

“Very well, Spock. Lieutenant, are you up to showing off your Klingon one last time?”

“Ready when you are, sir,” Uhura answers with a smile.

“Okay, then let’s go.”

Just as Jim is about to leave engineering, though, he finally spots Khan in the crowd. He is with Joaquin and Kati, pointing at the circuit bay the three of them are standing in front of, a PADD in his other hand. Khan is holding himself differently; he seems taller somehow, more comfortable in his own skin and more relaxed at the same time. It’s like he’s back in his element now that he’s with his crew, a leader among his people, and Jim can tell that Khan is rather enjoying the experience. He looks _happy_ for the first time that Jim has known him.

While he is watching, Jim notices the tiny gestures shared between Kahn and the two other augments. Whether it’s Joaquin’s hand resting briefly on Khan’s arm or Kati’s hip accidentally bumping into Khan’s  – the two Alphas are undoubtedly affected by Khan’s pheromones as much as Jim is, and Khan doesn’t seem to mind. It’s like the three of them are resuming some long-standing arrangement, picking up right where they left off.

“Captain?” Spock says, startling Jim out of his reverie. Spock and Uhura are already a few feet ahead of Jim, studying him in concern.

“It’s nothing,” Jim says, shaking his head. “Let’s go.” Determinedly not looking back at Khan, he leads the way to the transporter room.

*~*~*

Jim has no chance to dwell on his black thoughts regarding Khan, for their current situation demands his undivided attention. They were invited to the bridge of the _Vor’nak_ for a last strategic meeting, and once there, have positioned themselves in front of the captain’s chair. K’retok and Shenara are present as well, the former throwing them dark looks and baring his teeth as though itching to reach for his disruptor rifle.

“All that’s left now, Kirk,” Gorkon says after they have gone over their plan one more time, “is the prefix code required to lower the _Vengeance_ ’s shields.”

“Of course,” Jim says, uncomfortably aware that the act of treason he is about to commit probably even surpasses breaking Khan out of prison. “It’s 9679. I suggest you use your standard comm signal as a carrier to disguise the transmission.”

“Very well.” Gorkon narrows his eyes at Jim. “You have proven your good faith. Now let me demonstrate ours.”

Jim frowns at the Klingon, and then looks at Spock, who raises an eyebrow in response. Gorkon, meanwhile, is gesturing to Shenara, who leaves her station behind the captain’s chair carrying some sort of bulky appliance that looks like it has been ripped out of the heart of the _Vor’nak_ ’s engines. Shenara sets the device down on the floor in front of Jim with a loud clang before retreating back to her station.

When Jim looks up at Gorkon, the Klingon captain’s expression is one of barely concealed smugness. He makes a gesture at Jim that clearly spells out that the odd device is meant as a gift.

“Err,” Jim says, searching for words that wouldn’t offend the Klingons. When he finds none, he opts for the truth. “What is it?”

“It’s a cloaking device,” Gorkon says as though that should have been obvious. “ _Our_ cloaking device, to be precise, but you will need it more than we if you want to escape the _Vengeance_ and make your way through Federation space undetected.”

Jim can feel his jaw dropping. Is Gorkon seriously handing over one of the most heavily guarded military secrets of the Klingon Empire to a Starfleet officer?

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Jim stumbles after a few seconds of silence. “This could make all the difference.”

Gorkon nods. “My superiors will not be pleased that I have given this to you. They will consider it an act of treason − whereas I believe that right now, there is no greater hope for the Klingon Empire than you and your ship, Kirk.”

Jim swallows. “I won’t let you down. You have my word.”

Gorkon grunts and rises from his chair. “Then I believe there is nothing more to say than –”

Gorkon doesn’t finish the sentence, for at that moment, K’retok jumps out from behind his console, a huge sword in his hands, and raises it with the clear intent to strike Gorkon down. K’retok shouts a few words in Klingon and charges before anyone has had a chance to react.

Spock is the first to intervene. He throws himself at K’retok and tries to wrestle the weapon out of the Klingon’s grip, but is knocked to the floor with the dull edge of the blade. This gives K’retok another opportunity to charge at Gorkon, who seems frozen to the spot. Jim jumps forward to thrust himself between K’retok and the Klingon captain, but realizes it’s too late the second he makes his move.

The blast of a disruptor rifle cuts through the bridge. Jim flinches back when K’retok is hit by a red beam and is vaporized on the spot. Tracking the line of the beam back to its origin, Jim is amazed to see Shenara holding her rifle aloft, staring at the empty space that, until a minute ago, was occupied by K’retok.

For a few moments, there is silence. Then, as if in slow motion, Gorkon sinks to his knees like a felled tree, clutching his chest.

Shenara shouts out and rushes to Gorkon’s side just in time to keep him from toppling over. Jim can see the blood oozing out between Gorkon’s fingers where he has his hand pressed over the wound. Shenara supports the captain’s back and gently lowers him to the ground.

“Spock!” Jim yells, but the Vulcan has already scrambled up and pulled out his tricorder, scanning Gorkon with it and frowning at the readings.

“Where’s your doctor?” Jim asks Shenara, who looks at him nonplussed. “Uhura!”

While Uhura translates, Spock is relaying his findings to Jim. “His blood pressure is dropping. As far as I can tell, he is on the verge of respiratory arrest.”

“Can you help him?”

“Klingon physiology is very different to ours, Captain. I’m afraid I don’t have enough data –”

“Are they carrying a surgeon or not?” Jim shouts at Uhura, panicking at the sight of Gorkon’s face contorted with pain.

“She says he’s on his way,” Uhura answers.

While they are watching, helpless to do anything but bear witness, Gorkon raises an arm to touch Shenara’s head and pull her closer. Jim can hear him whispering something in Klingon and Shenara answering in return. Then Gorkon’s hand slowly slides from Shenara’s head and slumps down to the floor. Gorkon lets out a long breath and stills.

“He is dead, Captain,” Spock says beside Jim, staring at the readings on his tricorder as if he couldn’t quite believe what they were showing him.

For a few moments, no one moves. Shenara and the other Klingons on the bridge seem just as shocked as Jim and his crew. Then, as if been given an unseen signal, all the Klingons throw back their heads and start bellowing at the sky at the top of their voices.

It’s a spine-tingling sound, and it reverberates through the bridge for several moments, causing goosebumps to erupt all over Jim’s skin. Then it stops as abruptly as it began.

Shenara slowly rises to her feet, taking a long look at Gorkon’s body. She turns and walks over to the captain’s chair, her head held high, and addresses the crew in Klingon.

“Shenara is assuming command of this ship,” Uhura whispers to Jim. “As is her privilege as the former captain’s second.”

“Is that good news or bad?” Jim asks, exchanging a worried glance with Spock.

Uhura listens intently while Shenara speaks on and sits down in the captain’s chair. Then, quite abruptly, she turns to Jim, Spock, and Uhura and fixes them with a fiery glare.

Jim swallows, not daring to break the eye contact. He’s not sure what to expect from Shenara – she has no doubt proven her loyalty to Gorkon by killing K’retok, but Jim also remembers her hostile attitude towards him and his crew while they were held captive in the brig of the _Enterprise_.

When Shenara starts talking, she addresses Uhura directly, though her eyes keep flitting to Jim.

“She says that Gorkon was killed because of us,” Uhura translates, her voice wavering. “K’retok believed him to be a traitor to the Klingon Empire. He accused Gorkon of dishonoring them all with his actions.”

“And what does she think?” Jim asks, tensing up. Next to him, he can feel Spock getting ready to move as well.

Uhura’s face is unreadable while she listens to Shenara’s answer. “Shenara understands K’retok’s position,” she finally says. “Gorkon should not have cooperated with us like he did. However –” Uhura takes a moment to listen to Shenara speak. “The captain’s last orders were for her to go through with the plan. Gorkon was an honorable man. She will not sully his memory by going against his will.”

Jim lets out the breath he’d been holding. “So we’re good to go then?”

Uhura nods. “She says we are to leave this ship immediately and prepare for the battle ahead. But she also wants us to know, Captain, that, after this is over, she will no longer be bound by oath to help us. The next time her ship and ours cross paths, things might go differently.”

“Understood,” Jim says, nodding at Shenara as respectfully as he can manage. Then he turns to his officers. “Now let’s get the hell out of here before they change their minds.”

*~*~*

They have about an hour left before their deadline is up, one hour before Hunter will expect the Klingons to hand Jim and his crew over to her. The cloaking device is already down in engineering, being installed by a group of augments and an over-enthusiastic Scotty, who assured Jim that the repairs to the _Enterprise_ ’s engines would be finished in the nick of time. Jim has turned command over to Spock and is seizing an opportunity to head for his quarters for one last respite before things come to a head.

He can’t help thinking about the attack on Gorkon, replaying it in his mind over and over again. If only he had been quicker to react, if only he had somehow managed to disarm K’retok…  But thoughts like these were moot now, of course.

The one thing Jim can’t cast off is Shenara’s accusation – that it was _their_ fault that Gorkon was killed. Because she was right, wasn’t she? K’retok would never have dared to raise a hand against his captain if Gorkon hadn’t teamed up with them like he did, if he hadn’t believed that collaboration was possible between their peoples and gone out of his way to prove it. Now, they have not only lost an ally, but maybe their greatest hope for peace in the quadrant.

Jim sighs and opens the door to his quarters, sparing a fleeting thought to the fact that the Klingon guards have vanished for good. That’s when he spots Khan sitting on the edge of the bed. He is rubbing his forehead and looks up as he hears Jim enter.

Jim is so perplexed by Khan’s presence that he doesn’t know how to react. Part of him had given up hope that Khan would seek him out again during his heat, now that he has his family (his _Alphas_ ) back. But that must be why Khan is here – his face is shiny with sweat and his scent tells Jim that it’s high time for his need to be taken care of.

Khan, however, does not address his own discomfort, but takes one look at Jim’s face and rises to his feet. “What’s wrong?”

Jim lets out a sigh and leans against the wall next to the door. “Gorkon is dead. He was killed by his own first officer.”

Khan studies Jim for a few moments, his brows drawn tightly together.

“The diversion by the _Vor’nak_ –”

“…will go ahead as planned. Shenara has taken over. She’s on our side. Well, sort of.”

Khan takes a step closer. Jim can feel his cock twitching in his pants, reacting to Khan’s proximity even though his interest has been dulled somewhat by recent events. Pushing all thoughts of Gorkon to the back of his mind, Jim forces a smile.

“I was about to take a shower. Care to join me?” It’s probably not his most enticing come-on ever, but it’s all Jim has in him right now.

To his bewilderment, Khan shakes his head. “You are not well.”

“Neither are you,” Jim retorts. “So why don’t we make the best of it together?”

Khan seems to recognize the value of Jim’s suggestion, for he reaches for his shirt and starts to strip. Jim follows suit and shortly after, they are standing under the hot spray of the shower. Jim lets the water wash over him, wishing it were also able to erase the memory of blood oozing out of a wound or the ashen taste of guilt on his tongue.

Jim knows there’s barely any time left, so without much preparation, he presses himself against Khan’s back and lines up his little more than half-hard cock. Just as he is about to push in, though, Khan stops him. The augment turns around and drops to his knees, looking up at Jim through dark lashes, and finally swipes his tongue over Jim’s cock.  

Jim gasps at the sensation, not having expected this at all. He was under the impression, based on some of Khan’s behavior over the last couple of days, that blowjobs weren’t a particular favorite of his. Jim can only guess that Marcus is to blame for Khan’s reluctance, so he never pressed the issue. But if Khan is volunteering to suck him off… Jim would be lying if he said he hadn’t dreamed of this.

Khan licks the head before closing his lips around the shaft, and once he starts sucking, Jim has to lean against the wall for support because of the way his knees are threatening to buckle. Khan sets an agonizingly slow rhythm, teasing Jim for all it’s worth. In no time at all, Jim’s toes are curling and he needs to grab the base of his cock in order to stave off his orgasm.

“Stop,” Jim pants, determinedly not looking down at the titillating picture of Khan’s lips around his cock. “I’m going to come.”

Khan complies but doesn’t get up. Jim’s mouth starts watering when instead, Khan turns his back to him and leans forward, bracing himself on his elbows and presenting his bare ass to Jim.

Jim doubts he has ever set eyes on a more arousing picture than Khan’s exposed hole, eager and twitching for him to take. He wastes no more time positioning himself over Khan, aligns his cock, and pushes in.

There’s not much room to maneuver and the angle is a little awkward, but Khan’s passage is wet and tight and oh-so-perfect around Jim’s shaft. Jim knows that he won’t last long, so he clutches at Khan’s hips and starts pounding into him. Khan lets out a guttural moan every time Jim hits his prostate and starts stroking his own cock, working it frantically until he comes with a shout. Jim finishes only a few thrusts later, shuddering through his orgasm and collapsing on top of Khan.

He nuzzles Khan’s shoulder while they take a moment to catch their breath. Jim is itching to sink his teeth deep into Khan’s flesh to initiate a bonding, it’s what all his instincts are screaming at him, but he doesn’t dare. Khan and he haven’t spoken about where their relationship is headed and with the augments revived, Jim has no idea what he is to Khan anymore.

The thought of the augments brings Jim back to their current predicament. He carefully withdraws and exits the shower stall, grabbing a towel from the rack to dry himself off. Khan is still on his knees and has his eyes closed, clearly relishing the water running down his face. Jim has to force himself to look away.

The moment he has left the bathroom, the intercom buzzes. “Spock to Captain.”

Jim sighs and rubs the towel over his face. It’s not like he needs to hear Spock reminding him.

Their time is up.


	11. Part Three (9)

The tension on the bridge could be cut with a knife when Jim enters it. He gives a curt nod to Spock, who instantly vacates the captain’s chair, and sits down, his eyes fixed on the viewscreen.

“Status?”

“The _Vengeance_ is holding position,” Sulu reports. “The _Vor’nak_ ’s tractor beam on us is still in place. Mr. Scott is standing by to re-start the engines on your command, sir.”

“Good. What about Hunter?”

“We just picked up a transmission from the _Vengeance_ to the _Vor’nak_ , sir,” Uhura says from behind Jim. “It looks like they’ve entered negotiations.”

“Knowing Hunter, she won’t give the Klingons any more room to negotiate,” Jim says. “Stand by maneuvering thrusters.”

“Aye, sir. Standing by,” Sulu answers.

“Mr. Chekov, what’s our weapons status?”

“Phasers at sixty-five percent, photon torpedoes armed and ready, sir,” Chekov reports.

“Let’s hope we won’t need them.” Jim pushes the intercom button. “Scotty, how’s that cloaking device coming along?”

“I’m having a wee bit of trouble keeping it in sync with the deflector shield grid, but it’s as ready as it’ll ever be, Captain,” Scotty answers.

“Good. Stand by to cloak on my command.”

“Aye.”

Jim clutches the armrests of his chair, his eyes still fixed on the _Vengeance_ hovering a few parsecs away. All they can do now is wait until the _Vor’nak_ makes her move, disengages the tractor beam and pretends to leave the _Enterprise_ behind. The _Vengeance_ will undoubtedly open fire on the Klingon ship, giving Jim and his crew the chance to slip away – or at least, that’s the plan. Jim has no doubt in his mind that things won’t go all that smoothly; they never do.

Sooner than Jim anticipated, the _Enterprise_ gives a sudden lurch.

“Tractor beam disengaged,” Sulu reports. “We’re free to go.”

“Set course for Earth,” Jim commands. “Scotty, fire her up!”

“Aye, sir,” Scotty’s voice sounds through the speaker.

“The _Vor’nak_ is moving away,” Spock reports. “ _Vengeance_ in pursuit. They’re firing phasers.”

Jim only has a moment to spare for the image on the viewscreen, glimpsing the _Vor’nak_ taking a hit to her port nacelle but returning fire immediately.

“Scanners show that the _Vengeance_ ’s shields are lowering,” Spock says, still bent over his console. “It seems that Khan’s information about the prefix code was accurate.”

“Good. That’ll even the odds,” Jim says, cheering inwardly. Shenara and her crew are putting up a good fight indeed, targeting the _Vengeance_ ’s engines and firing at her with all they’ve got.

“Course laid in, sir,” Sulu says. “Warp engines ready.”

By now, the _Vengeance_ ’s scanners should have picked up on the fact that the _Enterprise_ isn’t as dead in space as she had appeared to be. It’s now or never.

“Scotty, engage the cloaking device. Sulu, stand by to go to warp on my command.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Captain, the _Vor’nak_ has taken a direct hit!” Chekov interrupts, sounding panicked. “They’ve lost their main deflector!”

Damn the _Vengeance_ and her advanced weaponry! Jim’s stomach churns as he watches the _Vor’nak_ keel dangerously to the port side, a glaring hole in her hull.

“The _Vengeance_ is targeting us now,” Spock’s voice cuts through the bridge just as Scotty reports, “Cloaking device engaged and fully functional, Captain.”

Jim hesitates, still staring at the screen. The _Vor’nak_ has ceased fire and has started to drift, looking dead in the water.

“Captain!” Uhura cries out.

“Captain, we have no shields while cloaked,” Spock says urgently. “If the _Vengeance_ happens to fire on our last known location –”

“Punch it!” Jim shouts, driving his fist against the armrest in frustration. Sulu follows through at once and the _Enterprise_ jumps to warp.

Jim sits back in his chair. They made it; they escaped. The _Vengeance_ has no chance of catching them now, cloaked as they are and headed for an unknown bearing.

That’s what Jim tries to focus on instead of the nagging feeling that they just abandoned the Klingon crew to their fate.

*~*~*

The augments at least don’t seem to share Jim’s guilty conscience, for the atmosphere is jubilant when he arrives in engineering half an hour later. The first successful collaboration since their awakening seems to have put them in a rather celebratory mood. Jim spots several bottles of Saurian brandy passing between them as they lounge on various parts of machinery, sharing jokes, toasting each other, and generally appearing to be having the time of their lives.

“Where did they get the booze?” Jim asks, frowning at Scotty, who seems a bit tipsy himself.

“Found out how to use the replicators,” Scotty says. “But don’t worry, Captain, from what I can tell, they can hold their spirits.”

“That’s a relief,” Jim says with an eye-roll, not looking forward to enforcing discipline among a crowd of inebriated super humans. “Where’s Khan?”

“He’s over there by the water reclamation unit,” Scotty says, waving in the general direction.

Jim says goodbye to Chekov, who accompanied him here from the bridge, and heads off to the area Scotty indicated. Khan is with Joaquin – _again_ , Jim thinks, biting his cheek – and Kati, leaning against a bulkhead and laughing, actually _laughing_ with them.

Khan’s scent has changed subtly in the course of the last hours, Jim notices. It’s less intense now, and not as distracting as it used to be for the past couple of days. Could this be a sign that his heat was coming to an end? On the one hand, Jim is relieved to know that Khan has gotten through it intact, yet he can’t help the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought that their time together is most likely running out.  

But heat or no heat, theirs was always going to be a short-term affair, wasn’t it? Just how exactly did Jim imagine this to turn out? Once they reach Earth and take care of Section 31 ( _if_ , Jim’s mind insists on throwing in), he will have no choice but to hand Khan over to the local authorities. Khan will be sentenced for his crimes while Jim…will go on with his life, in Starfleet or someplace else. It’s a sobering prospect.

Joaquin is talking when Jim approaches the three augments, apparently in the act of telling some highly amusing story, for Khan and Kati are both chuckling.

“…and then he said, ‘All right, then I guess we’re done here!’ and threw away his sword!”

“The _Armenian prince_? You’re winding us up,” Kati says and gives Joaquin’s shoulder a playful shove.

“It’s true!” Joaquin says, his brown eyes sparkling. “I swear to you, I have never seen anyone more bent on making a fool of himself.”

Khan has his arms folded and shakes his head in disbelief, grinning all the while. That’s when he spots Jim coming their way. He immediately straightens up, the smile slowly fading from his face.

“Captain.”

Jim nods at Khan, swallowing down the hurt at seeing Khan tense up at the sight of him.

“Ah, Captain,” Joaquin says, beaming ostentatiously at him. “I trust our work was to your satisfaction?” He gestures at their surroundings.

“Yes, very good. We’re grateful for your help.”

“Excellent. Then I’m sure you don’t mind me asking what you’re planning to do next?”

Joaquin phrases it as a question, but Jim can tell that it’s more of a demand than a request. He exchanges a brief look with Khan, whose face is carefully neutral.

“As I’m sure you’ve been told,” Jim answers, phrasing his words with caution, “we’re on our way to Earth to expose certain members of Starfleet as collaborators in a conspiracy to annihilate the Klingon Empire. We wish to bring them to justice.”

“Yes, yes, Khan told us all about that,” Joaquin says dismissively. “I’m not talking about your wayward admirals. I want to know what you’re planning to do with _us_ once we’ve reached Earth.”

Jim clears his throat, fighting the urge to check his belt for his phaser. He knows it’s not there and Joaquin would no doubt interpret the gesture as a weakness. Instead, Jim squares his shoulders and takes care to maintain the eye-contact.

“Once our current situation has been resolved, you will be handed over to our government on Earth. They will decide your future.”

Joaquin nods, still smiling, though the expression in his eyes is slowly turning glacial. He exchanges a look with Kati, and then faces Jim again.

“What if we don’t agree with what you have in mind?”

Jim shrugs off the question as casually as he can manage. “I’m afraid you don’t get a say in it. You are on my ship and therefore under my jurisdiction. My choice has already been made: I’m bound by oath to extradite you to the current Earth government, seeing as you escaped your sentence back when you were convicted in the 1990s.”

Jim can practically feel the anger flash through Joaquin at his words and catches a vein throbbing in his temple. Joaquin lets his gaze travel pointedly over the many augments spread over engineering.

“What gives you the idea that you can _make_ us do anything, Captain?”

There’s a growl coming from Jim’s right, and to his surprise, Jim realizes that Khan has narrowed his eyes at Joaquin and is glaring at him. Joaquin, however, either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about Khan’s reaction, for he ploughs on, undeterred.

“You do realize that we outnumber your crew ten to one, don’t you?” he asks Jim with a haughty smirk. “And even if we didn’t, our abilities far exceed yours. What makes you think you are in any position to order us around?”

Jim knows that Joaquin just crossed the line Jim can’t allow him to cross, but before he has a chance to react, Khan has stepped between them, facing Joaquin and blocking his path to Jim with his body.

“He is the captain,” Khan says under his breath, enunciating every syllable. “And we are guests on his ship. I suggest you show him the respect he is due.”

Joaquin’s eyes have grown wide. He lets out a disbelieving snort. “You can’t be serious! You expect us to obey those pitiful weaklings who haven’t evolved one iota from where they were two-hundred-and-fifty years ago? You know what they will do to us once we’re back on Earth! They will condemn us, imprison us, maybe even kill us – because they _fear_ us − and rightly so. We were _kings_ in our time and you expect us to submit to them?”

“It’s what I have negotiated,” Khan says, and even though his voice is low, Jim can feel the threat radiating in his tone.

Joaquin takes a step back and stares at Khan. “What happened to you, brother? You’re not the Khan that I remember. The great Khan Noonien Singh would never have allowed himself to be put on a leash by an inferior human!”

There is a snarl of outrage and before Jim knows it, Khan has Joaquin pinned to the bulkhead and is staring him down despite being a good deal shorter. “My reasons are my own. You will follow my orders or you will regret it.”

“Khan,” Kati intervenes, placing a hand on Khan’s arm. “This isn’t helping.”

Slowly, his eyes still fixed on Joaquin, Khan releases his grip on the augment and steps back. Joaquin stares at Kahn in a mixture of bewilderment and barely contained fury, his fists clenched at his side.

“Go and see how Ling is doing,” Khan commands. Joaquin looks like he wants to argue further, but then Kati jerks her head and he obeys, glowering at Jim a before he moves away.

Khan takes a deep breath once Joaquin has disappeared. Kati is studying him quietly, apparently waiting for Khan to comment on what just happened. When he doesn’t, Jim decides to cut in and change the topic to something less charged.

“Crew quarters still need to be assigned if you don’t want to have your people camping out in engineering,” he says. “Decks five and six are best suited. I’ll leave the details up to you.”

Khan nods, still looking slightly rattled. “Thank you, Captain.”

“We will also need some additional space where we can gather,” Kati says, addressing Jim. “For the memorial service.”

“The what?” Jim asks, frowning.

“Twelve of our number did not survive the journey,” Kati says with dignity. “We wish to pay them our respects.”

Khan looks at Jim. “If we could have access to some kind of communal area, it would be most helpful.”

Jim studies Khan for a moment. “I’m sure we can arrange something. I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you.”

Jim suddenly becomes aware that Kati is staring at him. The green of her eyes is so light that it’s almost translucent. She does not seem the least bit embarrassed when Jim catches her staring but continues to scrutinize him as though he was a mildly puzzling equation to be solved.

“All right,” Jim says, deciding that he has had his fill of augment weirdness for the day. “Carry on. I’ll be on the bridge.”

Jim swears he can feel Kati’s eyes on him his entire way out of engineering.

*~*~*

Back on the bridge, Sulu informs him that they’ve just left Klingon space and are now en route through Federation territory.

“What about the cloaking device?” Jim asks.

“It’s operating within normal parameters, as far as Mr. Scott can tell,” Spock answers, checking the readings on his console. “Klingon and Federation technologies aren’t exactly an ideal match.”

“As long as it works, I’m not complaining,” Jim says, heading for where Uhura is sitting bent over her station. “Lieutenant, have you found a way to open a secure channel to Earth?”

“I’m working on it, sir.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jim can see Spock straighten up. He studies Jim for a moment, and then joins him next to Uhura’s station.

“Carol Marcus?” Spock asks, obviously dying to know what Jim is up to. So much for the fabled Vulcan indifference.

Jim nods at Spock. “It’s a risky move, but she’s the only Starfleet officer I can think of who might be willing to help us without ratting us out to Command straight away. Of course, if Pike were still alive… But he’s not, so Carol is our best bet.”

“She did not respond to any of your attempts to contact her before we left Earth,” Spock points out.

“I know,” Jim says. “Like I said, it’s a risk. But we need someone we can trust inside Starfleet if we want to expose Section 31.”

Jim has turned his last encounter with Carol over and over in his head without arriving at anything resembling a resolution. The fact that he met Carol in front of the Federation courthouse suggests that the people involved in Khan’s trial may have gotten to her and turned her against Jim and his crew. On the other hand, Carol didn’t try to stop Jim even after she had caught on he was up to something illegal, and she had always had a mind of her own. It’s what Jim is banking on now.

“Keep trying to make contact, Lieutenant,” Jim tells Uhura. “I’ll take the call in my quarters once you’ve established a connection.”

“Aye, sir,” Uhura says, not looking up from her board.

“Take over, Mr. Spock,” Jim says. “I’ll have a look through Uhura’s notes on the information Khan gave her about Section 31. Maybe there’s something in there that will help us find a leverage point.”

“Understood,” Spock says, and takes his place in the captain’s chair.

*~*~*

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to Jim anymore, but when he enters his quarters a few minutes later, he is still startled to find an augment – Kati this time –  lounging in his most comfortable chair, her legs dangling over the armrest.

“How did you get in here?” Jim blurts out before he remembers asking Khan that same question not too long ago. He sighs and lets the door close behind him. “Never mind.”

“I was curious,” Kati says, lifting her feet off the armrest and getting up. “What kind of man does it take to make Khan Noonien Singh fall for a simple human?” Her eyes are scanning the room while she ambles past the bed, taking in the rumpled sheets and no doubt the lingering smell of sex.

“And have you found the answer?” Jim asks, acting as if he didn’t mind a three-hundred-year old genetically engineered woman strolling through his quarters – a woman who could probably snap his neck between two fingers.

Kati shrugs, reaching the bathroom door and turning around to face Jim. “I’m still collecting data.” She puts her hands on her hips and tilts them forward with a lascivious grin.

Jim can’t quite prevent his mouth from watering. Despite her muscular figure, Kati is curvy where it counts, and judging by the look on her face, Jim’s reaction isn’t lost on her. She chuckles.

“I can see one thing he likes about you,” she says. “Khan always had a thing for versatility.”

“Is there a point to this?” Jim asks, annoyed to be at the receiving end of yet another augment’s mind game.

Kati sobers and considers him for a few moments. Just as Jim is about to lose his patience and turn away, she says, “I want to know what he’s hiding.”

“Sorry?”

“Khan. There’s something he’s not telling us, something huge. And I have a feeling that you are in on the secret.”

Jim swallows. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Captain,” Kati says, coming a few steps closer. “Let’s not waste time with subterfuge, shall we? Joaquin was right: this isn’t the Khan Noonien Singh who left Earth with us. I want to know what happened to him. Everything. Not just the parts he feels safe to tell us.”

“It’s not my place to say. I’m sure he’ll tell you when he’s ready.”

“Our people need to _know_ ,” Kati says with vehemence. “They will not trust a leader who hides the truth from them. You’ve seen how Joaquin reacted to Khan. This is only going to get worse. If you care as much about Khan as I think you do, you will not allow him to shut us out and risk alienating his own family.”

Jim rubs a hand over his face. “It’s not that simple. This is _personal_.”

“I have known Khan since he was a cluster of cells in a test tube,” Kati says, her voice growing husky. “I care about him in ways you couldn’t even begin to fathom. I deserve to know what happened to him. And if he can’t tell me, for whatever reason, then it’s your job to do it for him.”

The look on Kati’s face has become so intense that Jim takes an involuntary step back. She looks like a panther on the prowl, a predator protecting her young, and Jim has no illusions about his own fate should he be foolish enough to stand in her way.

What’s more, Jim can’t help thinking that Kati has a point. Jim has seen the evidence with his own eyes, has witnessed Joaquin challenge Khan’s authority in public. If this was just the beginning… Khan was going to have a mutiny on his hands sooner rather than later. And that’s something Jim has to prevent at all costs, not just for Khan’s sake.

He still finds it difficult to start.

“How much has Khan told you about his time at the Io Facility?” he finally asks.

Kati ponders the question. “Not much. It’s where he was awoken. He served some time aboard before he managed to escape. Apparently one of your admirals made him design weapons for the war against the Klingons.”

“Admiral Marcus used _you_ to blackmail Khan into doing his bidding,” Jim says. “He threatened to destroy the cryotubes and kill everyone inside if Khan didn’t comply.”

Kati draws in a sharp breath. “I didn’t know about that.”

Jim nods, his suspicions confirmed. Leave it to Khan to skip over the most crucial part of the tale.

“Starfleet Command doesn’t want Marcus’s schemes exposed. They are happy to blame Khan for his attack on HQ without taking into account any of the mitigating circumstances. That’s not how the law is supposed to work in our time.”

Kati gazes into space, taking in Jim’s words. “So that’s why you broke him out of prison?” she asks. “To make sure your precious Federation doesn’t dirty its hands with an unfair conviction?”

“Yes,” Jim says, deciding not to call Kati out on her choice of words.

Kati considers this, and then narrows her eyes at Jim. “That can’t be all. This is _personal_ to you, you said so yourself.”

Jim squirms under Kati’s scrutiny, cursing the augment’s perceptiveness.

“You’re still hiding something,” Kati insists when Jim doesn’t volunteer an answer. “What is it?”

Jim hates violating Khan’s privacy like this, even though he knows it’s for the best. He has to force himself to get the words out.

“Weapons…weren’t the only thing Marcus extorted out of Khan.”

“What do you mean?”

Jim sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Marcus was an Alpha. One of the last ones left in Starfleet. When he found out he had woken up an Omega…” He looks at Kati, praying for her to figure it out on her own.

Kati has become so still that she almost appears to be frozen. The only thing moving is her face. Jim can name every single emotion that goes through her while she works out the truth – confusion, disbelief, shock, outrage, and at last, sadness. Her eyes are shining with tears when she speaks again.

“Marcus…used _us_ as leverage? To force Khan to –” She trails off, swallowing hard.

“Yes.”

“And Khan…”

“…went along with it out of fear for your safety.”

Kati wraps her arms around herself, clearly fighting hard to keep her composure.

“What about this Admiral Marcus?” she asks after a long silence, an edge to her voice that sends a shiver down Jim’s spine.

“He’s dead. Khan killed him,” Jim says.

Kati nods, clenching her jaw. “Good. That’s…good.”

Jim lets himself sink into the armchair Kati just vacated. He feels weary all of a sudden, weighed down by the burden of the secret he shares with Khan, and now Kati.

Despite the progress he made during his heat, Khan still insists on treating the whole subject of Marcus’s abuse like some sort of failure on his own part, an unfortunate episode he should have been able to avert. If Khan feels too ashamed to open up to his family about what happened, how is he ever going to testify in a courtroom full of strangers? It seems like a forlorn hope that Khan will ever be willing to publicly claim the justice he deserves.

Kati takes a deep breath and addresses Jim again. “Thank you for telling me, Captain. Rest assured that I will treat this whole conversation as confidently as I’m able to, given the circumstances.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“There will be no more contests for leadership among our number. Khan will have our full support and loyalty, as he always did in the past.”

“What about Joaquin? Will he see things the way you do?”

Kati lets out a humorless laugh. “You don’t know Joaquin very well, Captain. Believe me when I tell you that once he hears of this, your Admiral Marcus can count himself lucky that he is already dead. He may not always show it, but Joaquin is very protective of Khan.”

 _He’s not the only one_ , Jim is on the verge of saying, but he bites his tongue.

“As for you,” Kati says, contemplating him once more. “I’m beginning to understand what Khan sees in you.”

Jim raises his eyebrows, aware of the enormity of the compliment he was just given.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Kati says, letting out a harsh laugh. “If you hurt him, there are seventy-two men and women aboard your ship who will make you regret it.”

And with that casually uttered threat, Kati leaves his quarters and Jim to his thoughts.

*~*~*

Jim doesn’t have long to dwell on his exchange with Kati, for Uhura calls him from the bridge a few minutes later. Jim has just settled down with the notes on Section 31 on a PADD in front of him when the intercom buzzes.

“Kirk here.”

“Uhura here, Captain. I have Carol Marcus on the line for you.”

“That was quick,” Jim says, more than a little impressed.

“Just doing my job, sir,” Uhura says with a hint of a smile in her voice.

“It’s a good thing I hired you then,” Jim says, grinning. “Put Carol through.”

“Aye, sir.”

It only takes a moment until the screen on Jim’s desk flickers to life, showing him Carol Marcus’s slightly blurred face. Uhura’s encryption codes must be interfering with reception.

“Jim?” she asks, her eyes wide. “Where the hell have you been? Everyone is looking for you.”

“I know,” Jim says. “And I’m sorry to drag you into this, Carol, but I need your help.”

Carol considers him for a moment, and then looks over her shoulder as if to check if she’s being watched.

“This frequency is safe,” Jim assures her. “No one will be able to trace the transmission back to you.”

“You’ve got some nerve calling me after what you did,” she says, her voice low.

“I’m sorry, Carol, there was no other way. Khan’s trial would have been a sham. I don’t mean to hurt you, but what your father did was wrong, and it needs to become public.”

Carol lets out a sigh, looking away for a moment. “You can’t seriously expect me to help the man who murdered my father before my eyes.”

Jim swallows. “No. But I believe that doing what’s right is more important to you than protecting your father’s reputation.”

Carol winces but doesn’t deny Jim’s assessment. She throws another glance over her shoulder before speaking again, even more quietly this time.

“I found the missing files on the torpedoes my father had designed. And something else − information about a secret project for a biochemical weapon to be used against the Klingons. It’s called −”

“… Project Catharsis,” Jim interrupts her. “Yes, we know about that. It’s why we’re flying back to Earth. Carol, we need to approach the Federation Council with this. Do you still have the files on the project?”

Carol nods.

“Perfect. Combined with Khan’s testimony, that should be enough to convince the Council that our accusations are legit.”

“You’re never going to make it to Earth. Every Starfleet ship in the quadrant has orders to take you down no matter the cost.”

Jim cringes at the unpleasant reminder of his status as a fugitive. “That’s nothing to worry about. They won’t be able to detect us.”

“How did you manage that?”

“It’s a long story. Look, Carol, I don’t know how much time we’ve got. Can you think of anyone else in Starfleet who might be willing to stand up against Command once they are presented with our evidence? It would really help if we had the support of one or two admirals at least.”

To Jim’s surprise, Carol doesn’t even need to think about it. “I put out a few feelers after I found the files on my dad’s computer. There’s definitely at least one person who would be amenable to the idea. I’ll contact him and…how do I let you know?”

Jim has to take a moment to reign in his amazement at Carol’s foresight. “I’ll be in touch as soon as we’ve entered the solar system. In the meantime, can you find out how we best approach the Council with this? I was thinking of going directly to the President, but maybe that’s not the wisest −”

“Leave that to me. I think I know someone on the Council who might be able to move your case to the top of the agenda. She’s an old friend of my father’s, but there’s no reason to let her in on the details.”

Jim lets out a breath of relief. “Thank you, Carol. I owe you one.”

“Oh, you owe me much more than that, Jim Kirk.” Her face grows serious. “You’ve gotten yourself into deep water back home, you know that?”

Jim nods, grimacing. “Yeah, I know.”

Carol swallows, her eyes welling up. “Be safe.”

The screen goes dark and Jim is left staring at his own shadowy reflection.

*~*~*

After a short nap and another visit to the bridge, Jim heads down to engineering to check on Scotty. He finds him engrossed in a conversation with one of the augments, a burly man with a homely face and a kind smile.  Scotty is obviously explaining something terribly complicated to the augment, for he gesticulates wildly, while the other man follows his deliberations with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

In contrast to Jim’s earlier visit, engineering seems quite empty; Jim can only make out five or six augments working on different parts of machinery. When Scotty spots him, he waves Jim over to join him and his new-found friend.

“Where is everyone?” Jim asks.

“They’ve only just finished with the memorial service,” Scotty tells him. “The rest of Khan’s crew is up on Deck 6, taking up quarters.”

“What’s our status?”

“All systems fully operational. Chekov and Rodriguez are working on the phaser array, trying to squeeze a little more juice out of the emitters. Can’t hurt, considering who we’re up against.”

“Good thinking, Scotty. And the cloaking device?”

Scotty winces and weighs his head. “It’s working, Captain, but I’ve got to admit, I don’t like having a piece of alien technology wired into the _Enterprise_ ’s machinery. It just doesn’t feel right, d’ you know what I mean? And the calibrations to the deflector grid are still a bit wonky.”

“We only have about ten hours left before we reach Earth. Do you think it’ll hold up till then?”

Scotty shrugs. “It’d better. Otto here thinks he’s figured out a way to stabilize the graviton field, so we’ll see how that works.” He points to the augment beside him, who nods at Jim and smiles.

“Good,” Jim says. “If you need me, I’ll be on Deck 6 to see how those quarter assignments are coming along.”

Jim’s real reason to head there, of course, is to check up on Khan, to find out if he still needs help with his heat. It’s been hours since they last made love, longer than it ever has been between their encounters, and Jim can’t deny that he has an itch of his own to scratch after all that time. He has very quickly gotten used to having regular sex with Khan.

Jim can smell Khan’s need as soon as he steps out of the turbolift on Deck 6. It’s not as strong as it used to be, but it’s still there, beguiling and intoxicating, luring Jim into following its trail down the corridor.

He finds Khan standing inside one of the crew quarters in the company of three other augments, Joaquin prominent among them. He is the first to spot Jim, his face darkening as he takes him in, but Joaquin looks away surprisingly quickly.

When Khan becomes aware that Jim is here, he casts him a cursory glance, curls his lip, and immediately turns back to his PADD, continuing with his instructions.

Jim is thrown for a loop. It stings to be cold-shouldered by Khan like this, even though Jim can kind of guess the reason why. Kati must have told Khan about their conversation in Jim’s quarters.

Jim waits until Khan stops speaking and cuts in. “Can I talk to you for a minute, in private?”

Khan still doesn’t look at him but grimaces, clearly trying to come up with a viable excuse. When he finds none, he grits his teeth. “Fine.”

Jim looks pointedly at Joaquin and the other two augments and jerks his head to indicate the door. After a moment’s hesitation, they all comply. Joaquin, to Jim’s surprise, doesn’t even try to put up a protest, but leaves the room with one last lingering look at Khan.

“What do you want?” Khan asks when they are alone.

“I came here to see if you need my help,” Jim says, thrown back a bit by the harshness in Khan’s tone.

“That won’t be necessary, Captain. My heat is almost over and I’m perfectly capable of dealing with the residual effects on my own. Now, if you’ll excuse me −” He turns to leave.

“Khan, don’t be an idiot,” Jim says, stepping in Khan’s way but careful not to touch him. “I could smell you all the way from the turbolift. What’s this about?”

Abandoning his avoidance strategy, Khan throws him a look of pure venom and hisses, “You _told_ her.”

“She needed to know.”

“You had no right!”

Jim sighs. “Look, I know I may have crossed a line, and for that I am sincerely sorry. But maybe it’s not the best idea to keep up the tough-guy act in front of the people who’ve known you all your life. They’re not that easily fooled.”

“They won’t respect me anymore once they learn what I’ve done.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Khan. You did it _for_ _them_ , remember? And they will honor that and respect you all the more for it.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I know _I_ do.”

Khan’s eyes swivel to Jim’s and, for the first time since Jim entered the room, Khan holds the contact. Jim’s breath catches in his throat at the intensity of Khan’s gaze. There’s astonishment there, paired with the remnants of his earlier rage, but above all there’s want, so much of it that it’s almost too much to bear.

Before Jim knows it, they are kissing, clinging to each other as if for dear life. Jim reaches for the back of Khan’s neck to draw him closer while Khan’s hands are roaming the skin beneath Jim’s shirt. Jim moans when Khan finds his nipples and rubs them between two fingers.

In a flurry of limbs and hastily-dropped pants Jim has Khan bent over the desk, aligns his cock, and glides into him. Being sheathed balls-deep within Khan feels like coming home after a rough day at sea. Jim lets out a strangled sound at the sensation, one that is probably closer to a sob than a moan.

The thought that this could be the last time they’re doing this, the last time they are allowed to be this close, makes something in Jim’s throat constrict with pain. He sets a rhythm that’s almost frantic, driving into Khan as though desperate to bridge that last barrier between them, to be joined to Khan in more than just flesh.  

They both come remarkably fast, riding the high together, and when Jim collapses on top of Khan he feels not only spent but ruined. How is he going to say goodbye after all this?

The desire to bond with Khan is more pronounced than ever. Jim can’t keep his fingers away from Khan’s left shoulder blade, caressing it through the fabric. Khan has stilled under him and doesn’t seem inclined to move, allowing them to stay linked for a little while longer.

Jim startles when the intercom buzzes and Spock’s voice resonates through the room.

“Spock to Captain. Please come to the bridge.”

Jim buries his nose in Khan’s nape, inhaling the scent that’s so uniquely his, and sighs. “Next time you’re in heat, we’re going to Risa.”

Khan lets out a chuckle that ebbs away too quickly. Jim withdraws his cock from Khan’s body, kissing the mole at the back of Khan’s neck before he straightens up. Khan follows suit, does up his pants, and runs his fingers through his hair.

They face each other in silence, both not quite knowing what to say. Jim’s comment was meant as a joke, but now that it has sunk in, it throws their imminent parting into even sharper relief.

In the end, they share one last kiss. It’s brief and chaste, sweet almost, and the way Khan cups the back of Jim’s head is achingly gentle. They break apart and leave the room, heading in two different directions.

*~*~*

An hour before the _Enterprise_ is scheduled to arrive on Earth, their luck runs out.

They are in the heart of Federation territory by now and Sulu has had quite a bit of maneuvering to do to avoid passing ships and starbases along the way − which means that the cloaking device picks about the worst possible time to suddenly stop working.

Scotty seems on the verge of tears when he makes the call to the bridge. “We had it fixed, but then the cooling system overloaded and the deflector grid −”

“It’s okay, Scotty,” Jim says into the intercom. “I’m sure you did everything you could.”

 _Okay_ may be pushing it a little, for they are anything but. Carol told him that Starfleet was put on high alert in order to hunt down the _Enterprise_. The minute they are recognized by a Federation ship, they’ll have a fight on their hands, and that’s something Jim is resolved to avoid at all costs. The last thing he wants is to cause any Starfleet casualties.

Jim calls Chekov to the bridge to assist Spock with the scanners and steels himself for a bumpy ride.

The better part of their journey, though, turns out to be smooth sailing. They almost make it to Earth’s solar system without incident and Jim is about to breathe easier when their scanners pick up a ship that’s about to cross their path.

“It’s a Starfleet vessel,” Spock confirms. “Constitution class.”

“On screen.”

A few seconds later, the viewscreen shows them a ship that could almost be mistaken for the _Enterprise_.

“It’s the USS _Constellation_ ,” Sulu says.

“Has she picked us up?”

“Undeterminable,” Spock says from his station. “She has altered neither her course nor her velocity.”

“Plot a course to evade her, but don’t make it look too obvious.”

“Aye, sir,” Sulu says, working the controls.

“I don’t like it,” a voice behind Jim says. Bones has apparently entered the bridge while Jim was distracted.

“Why not?” Jim asks, not taking his eyes off the viewscreen.

“The _Constellation_ ’s scanners ought to be at least as good as ours. She’s bound to have picked us up by now. Why isn’t she trying to catch us?”

“Maybe she hasn’t −”

“Captain, there’s another ship approaching, fast,” Spock reports in his most urgent tone of voice. He pauses for a moment. “It’s the _Vengeance_.”

Jim’s heart skips a beat. “ _What_?!”

“She’s on an intercept course.”

So this is it then. Apparently, the damage the _Vengeance_ sustained in the battle against the _Vor’nak_ wasn’t as severe as they had thought. They would have to shoot their way through to Earth after all – exactly the kind of scenario that Jim had wanted to avoid.

Jim straightens in his chair and takes a deep breath. “Battle stations.”

“Aye, sir,” Uhura says and a moment later, the red alert klaxon starts wailing.

Jim pushes the intercom button. “Khan, I need you on the bridge.” Without waiting for an answer, he turns to Chekov, who reports, “Shields are up, Captain.”

“ _Constellation_ has changed her course and is headed for our position,” Spock says. “ _Vengeance_ will be on to us in three, two, one −”

Suddenly, the viewscreen is filled with the massive bulk of the _Vengeance_ , blotting out everything else behind her.

“They are hailing us, Captain,” Uhura says.

“On screen.”

Jim was prepared to see Charlize Hunter sitting in the captain’s chair, but he didn’t imagine her to be looking quite so smug. She casts him a smile that’s reminiscent of a cat that just got the cream.

“Jim. It’s been a while.”

“Yes, it has,” Jim says, standing up and stepping in front of the viewscreen.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to speak last time we met. You seemed rather eager to leave.”

Jim shrugs. “Urgent business to take care of. You know how it is.”

“I do. Right now, you’re the business _I_ need to take care of.” She leans forward. “I’m going to make this simple for you. Surrender yourself and your crew and no one needs to get hurt.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. You see, I have an appointment with the Federation Council to deliver some important evidence. You wouldn’t happen to know about a secret project called _Catharsis_ , would you?”

Hunter huffs and leans back in her chair. “What I know for sure is that once again you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. You do realize that you’re already facing a laundry list of charges, don’t you, Jim? Do you really want me to add conspiracy to it?”

“I’m not the one who plots against everything the Federation stands for.”

“I disagree, and I believe the President will back me up on this. You have collaborated with the Klingons, our sworn enemies, against a Starfleet admiral. You have used them as allies in a strategic maneuver to sabotage a Federation vessel. That’s enough to kick you out of Starfleet for life.”

“Then let’s have it out in front of the Council,” Jim says, seizing the opportunity and ignoring the jolt of fear that flashes through him at Hunter’s prediction. “We’ll present them with our evidence; we’ll each have the chance to be heard. Let’s resolve this conflict like civilized people.”

“I wish it were that simple, Jim,” Hunter says. That’s when Jim hears the familiar _swoosh_ of the door to the turbolift that tells him that Khan just entered the bridge.

Hunter’s eyes are narrowing as she notices Khan. “I’m guessing he is the reason why our shields inexplicably malfunctioned during our battle with the Klingons.” Her tone has become icy.

“Oh, I’m sure Khan has quite a few more tricks up his sleeve when it comes to the _Vengeance_ ’s vulnerable spots. I wouldn’t piss him off if I were you.”

Hunter snorts. “That’s how you mean to prevent me from taking you down, Jim? By issuing empty threats? Trust me, your genetically engineered lap-dog won’t get another chance to sabotage my ship.”

Jim is itching to respond to the insult, but he keeps his temper. Their dwindling chance of negotiating a truce is too important to risk on a matter of pride.

“My crew and I are going to speak before the Federation Council,” Jim says as decisively as he can manage. “We are going to present our evidence. If you choose to stand in our way, I won’t be responsible for the consequences.”

“Obeying the chain of command has never been your strong suit, has it?” Hunter asks scornfully. “I should have realized you were going to be trouble the minute Pike told me about you.”

“We’re going,” Jim says, more than ready to cut the chit-chat. “What happens next is up to you. Kirk out.”

He signals Uhura to terminate the connection. A moment later, the viewscreen turns black.

There’s utter silence on the bridge. Jim knows that he may have just signed their death warrant, but it’s too late to back out now. Not when they’ve come this far.

“Sulu, resume course. Best speed ahead.”

“Aye, Captain,” Sulu says, a slight quiver in his voice. The _Enterprise_ starts moving and Jim braces himself for whatever may come.

The first phaser volley nearly knocks him out of his chair.  

“Direct hit!” Chekov reports. “Shields are holding.”

“Return fire!” Jim orders. “Target engines only. We just want to delay them.”

“What about the _Vengeance_ ’s prefix code?” Sulu asks. “Aren’t we going to use it?”

Jim shakes his head. “Hunter will have changed it. We’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

“There is an emergency flush vent just below the warp nacelles,” Khan tells him from his right. “You could use it to block up the fusion reactor.”

“Mr. Chekov, did you catch that?”

“Aye, Captain. Targeting warp nacelle pylons.”

“ _Constellation_ will be in firing range in less than two minutes,” Spock reports from his station.

 _Dammit!_ Their odds to beat the _Vengeance_ on her own could hardly be called great, but if another ship joined the fray, one whose firepower equaled that of the _Enterprise_? Their chances to escape would be practically zero.

“The _Vengeance_ has a blind spot underneath her port bow,” Khan says hurriedly. “If you maneuver the _Enterprise_ there, her scanners won’t be able to detect us.”

“Mr. Sulu, do it!”

“Aye, Captain.”

It seems a bit like tempting fate to draw closer to the ship that’s trying to destroy them, but once they’re in position, Jim can see the merits of Khan’s suggestion, for the ceaseless firing stops. The only problem is –

“ _Constellation_ is now in range,” Spock says and looks over his shoulder at Jim. “Captain, she’s bound to see us even if the _Vengeance_ can’t.”

Jim grits his teeth and holds back a curse. On the viewscreen, the _Constellation_ looms closer. She has yet to make a move, but Jim is sure they won’t have long to wait.

Another few seconds pass in silence. Then Spock’s voice cuts in. “ _Constellation_ is firing torpedoes!”

“Brace yourselves!” Jim bellows, but the expected detonation never comes. Instead, the torpedoes pass the _Enterprise_ by and hit the _Vengeance_ ’s aft section.

Jim turns to Spock, frowning. “A miss?”

“Unlikely, Captain. It appears the _Constellation_ is targeting Hunter’s ship instead of ours.”

“What the hell…?”

“Captain, the _Constellation_ is hailing us,” Uhura says from behind Jim.

“On screen!”

Jim rises to greet whoever just saved their butts. A moment later, Carol Marcus’s face appears on the viewscreen.

Jim gapes at her. “Carol! You’re on that ship!”

Carol beams. “Think of us as the cavalry. When I told Admiral Cartwright of your plan to come back to Earth, he had a feeling you could probably use a convoy to get there in one piece.”

“Carol, that’s… I don’t know what to say.”

“You’re welcome. Now I believe we both have our hands full. See you soon, Jim.”

She closes the connection. Right then, another tremor rocks the bridge.

“Captain, we’re too close to the _Vengeance_ ,” Sulu says. “Whenever she’s hit, we are exposed to the shockwave.”

“Put some distance between us and let’s pull our own weight around here. Attack pattern Beta.”

“Aye, sir.”

Jim can hardly believe how the wind has changed. His hopes renewed, he sits down in the captain’s chair and shares a meaningful look with Khan, who is still standing next to him. Bones appears to have left for medbay again.

Since the _Vengeance_ now has two ships engaging her, the damage she can do has been significantly lessened. She still puts up one hell of a fight, firing phasers and torpedoes simultaneously at both the _Enterprise_ and the _Constellation_. Due to her bulk, though, her maneuvers are more sluggish than theirs, which gives them another advantage.

“ _Vengeance_ ’s shields are failing,” Spock reports after a few minutes of attacks and counter-attacks. “It looks like the _Constellation_ managed to cripple her deflector grid.”

“Good. Cease fire. Hail Hunter and tell her to –”

“Captain, the _Constellation_ is still firing torpedoes,” Spock urgently reports. “She must not have noticed the damage to the _Vengeance_.”

“If they happen to hit one of the pylon conduits while the _Vengeance_ ’s shields are down, it could cause a chain reaction in their warp core,” Khan says in a tense voice.

“Lieutenant, hail Cartwright and tell him to stop firing at once!” Jim yells.

“Aye, sir,” Uhura says, but one look at the viewscreen tells Jim that they are already too late. There are multiple explosions along the Vengeance’s hull, making it seem like someone lit a fuse.

“She’s going to blow!” Sulu yells.

Jim pushes the intercom button. “Scotty, we need to beam over the _Vengeance_ crew. Get a fix on their location and −”

“Captain!” Uhura cries out and just as Jim turns back to the screen, there is an explosion so powerful that it shakes the _Enterprise_ in its wake. Chekov actually gets thrown out of his seat as the ship keels sideways.

“Initiating emergency thrusters!” Sulu shouts amidst the chaos. A few seconds later, the _Enterprise_ levels and comes to a halt.

Jim is breathing heavily, unable to comprehend what just happened.

When Spock speaks up, it’s in his most dispassionate voice. “The _Vengeance_ has been destroyed. Scanners are unable to pick up any life forms among the debris.”

“How many people were on that ship?” Jim asks, his throat tight.

“The _Vengeance_ can be piloted by one person alone,” Khan says. “But there was probably a minimal crew aboard.”

They all stare in silence at the chunks of metal floating by, the last remnants of what a few minutes ago had been a fully-functional starship.

“Captain, the _Constellation_ is hailing us,” Uhura says, touching her earpiece.

Jim nods at her and squares his shoulders. This time, it’s not Carol’s face filling the screen, but an admiral’s Jim vaguely remembers from his time at the academy. The admiral – Cartwright – greets him with a somber expression on his face. He is a thin man with short-cropped black hair and a decisive manner.

“Captain Kirk. It’s good to see you. I only wish the circumstances weren’t so difficult.”

“You and me both, Admiral,” Jim says.

“The destruction of the _Vengeance_ is unfortunate,” Cartwright says. “It was not our intent to cause this much damage. Admiral Hunter was a fine officer, even though she may have been somewhat misguided in her opinion of you.” He clears his throat. “Lieutenant Marcus and I have arranged for the Council to convene as soon as you’ve arrived. I suggest we escort you there right away.”

“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done,” Jim says, meaning it.

“Don’t thank me too quickly. There’ll still be hell to pay for you back on Earth. But I hope I’ve done my part to see justice served.”

“I’m sure you have, Admiral.”

“We’ll talk in person once you’ve reached Earth. Cartwright out.”

Jim leans back in his chair, the adrenaline slowly draining out of him. They made it. They are alive. All that’s left now is to deal with the fallout.

There is a touch on his arm and when Jim looks up, he finds Khan’s gaze resting on him. A smile lights up his face, and to Jim’s utter joy it’s just as radiant and full of warmth as the ones Khan usually directs at his crew.

Jim squeezes Khan’s hand and returns the smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA: Lunar Sheep did [the most amazing drawing of Jim and Khan](http://percivalart.tumblr.com/post/97726955687/im-not-like-admiral-marcus-ill-never-do-that) inspired by this story. Check it out and don't forget to tell her how talented she is!


	12. Part Four (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, I realize that this update is long overdue and I wish I could have had it out sooner, but it just wasn't possible for me. My sincerest apologies for the long wait and I hope you'll still be able to enjoy it. It's the longest chapter yet, so maybe that makes up for it a little. ;)  
> There is one last chapter still to come, which is almost finished and will be posted as soon as my betas have had their say - either next Sunday or the Monday after. 
> 
> **Warnings for this chapter:** Discussion of rape, PTSD, miscarriage; victim-blaming  
>  Also, everything I know about court procedures comes from watching movies. I apologize for any liberties I took for the sake of plot and drama. :)

Jim does his best not to break into a run while he makes his way through downtown San Francisco. He can’t help but be reminded of the last time he crossed this particular square, right before he broke Khan out of prison and bumped into Carol − but at least now, he’s wearing his own uniform.

The place isn’t any less busy than a few weeks ago, and it takes Jim a while to navigate his way through the throng to the Federation courthouse. He takes the steps two at a time and shows his ID to the guards at the entrance, feeling much less apprehensive about his visit today, though still nervous. It’s been thirteen days since he said goodbye to Khan on the _Enterprise_ , and Jim couldn’t get himself to calm down right now even if he tried.  It’s been a hell of a long time.

Jim passes the security check and heads over to the elevator at the far side of the lobby, where he squeezes himself inside just before the door closes shut. He notices a couple of people throwing him curious glances during the ride up –  he guesses it shouldn’t surprise him, since he has been in the press a lot lately – but nobody dares to approach him, for which Jim is grateful. It feels like he has done nothing but explain himself since he returned to Earth.

Khan isn’t held on the top security level like the last time, so Jim gets off on Level H, which is a lot easier to gain entrance to. He only has to show his ID once before he is waved through and told to wait in a small room with only the security cameras for company.

It doesn’t take long before the door opens and Khan is led in.

“Fifteen minutes,” the prison guard tells them, locks the door behind Khan, and leaves them alone together.

Jim’s heart is beating faster as he faces Khan and drinks in the sight of him. Orange still isn’t his color, but apart from the unflattering prison uniform he looks just as gorgeous as ever. Jim has a hard time fighting the urge to step closer and run his hands through those black strands, to press his lips against Khan’s…but that’s just not practicable right now. The security cameras might be muted, but there are at least two guards on the other side watching their every move. Jim has no illusions about how outing themselves as a couple would go over with the Federation Council or Starfleet Command. The last thing he wants is to ruin Khan’s chances for a fair verdict with the trial only a few weeks away.

“You okay?” Jim asks when Khan remains quiet.

Khan tears his eyes away from Jim’s chest and nods. “How did the court-martial go?”

“Cleared,” Jim says, a smile breaking out on his face. “They summarily dismissed all the charges in light of our ‘outstanding service to the Federation’. According to the President, we prevented Starfleet from making one of the biggest mistakes in its history.”

Khan’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Good. I’m glad.”

“I can’t believe they didn’t kick us out. Mind you, it’s still a tossup what our next assignment will be. We might end up on spacedock duty after all.”

Khan chuckles and jerks his head to indicate the table in the middle of the room. They sit down, placing their hands on the table top only inches from each other’s, but not quite touching.

Jim has to swallow hard when he remembers the feeling of those hands against his skin, exploring his body, making him gasp. Khan’s wrists aren’t bound like the last time he was held prisoner – one of the advantages of turning himself in without a fuss.

“How are you holding up?” Jim asks, breaking away from his appreciation of Khan’s fingers.

“The accommodations are a lot better than the last time I was here,” Khan says lightly. “But I do miss the company.” He casts a meaningful glance at Jim, who smiles in return.

“I spoke to Kati,” Jim says. “She sends her love and asked me to tell you not to worry. They’re being treated well, and they hope to see you soon.”

Khan nods, his eyes on the table. “Thank you.”

There is an awkward silence in which neither of them quite knows what to say. The distance between them, as small as it is physically, is starting to seem insurmountable.

Suddenly, there is a movement against Jim’s leg, and he can feel one of Khan’s feet sliding against his calf. When Khan got rid of his shoes Jim has no idea, but he doesn’t dwell on the fact as he lets his eyes fall closed. Jim leans his leg against Khan’s foot and swallows down a moan when Khan begins to massage him with it.

A second later his eyes fly open as he hastily checks the security camera directed at their table. It looks like it shouldn’t be able to pick up what’s going on between them though, and Jim is more than ready to discard his remaining doubts. He sighs softly when Khan’s foot travels to the inside of his thigh and starts caressing it.

They should probably continue the conversation though, for appearance’s sake, so Jim starts talking again.

“The Federation Council has instigated a full sweep of all known Section 31 bases.” He swallows down another moan as Khan’s toes press gently against his hard-on. “We’ll soon know the names of everyone behind Project Catharsis and how deeply Hunter was involved with the organization.”

“That’s good news,” Khan says distractedly, licking his lips as he studies Jim’s face to gauge his reaction. Jim jerks when Khan starts moving his toes, sending sparks of pleasure through Jim’s groin and beyond.

“Yes,” Jim says, and it’s all he can do not to throw his head back and give in to the sensation. Stringing two words together has suddenly become a Herculean task. Jim can barely keep a straight face anymore.

“Stop,” he croaks when it finally gets to be too much, and throws a sidelong glance at the camera. “We can’t. Not here.”

Khan makes a face but eventually withdraws his foot, sighing heavily.

“I tried to find out about your odds at the trial,” Jim goes on, adjusting himself as covertly as possible. “Judge Satie will be presiding; he’s strict but fair. I hear you also have some kickass defendants who know their stuff, so there’s a good chance that you’ll be sentenced to prison rather than a penal colony. Wherever it’s going to be, I’m pretty sure I can convince what’s left of Command to assign me somewhere nearby. Maybe some kind of patrol duty –”

“No.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you to do that.”

Jim frowns at Khan, taken aback. “Why not?”

Khan shifts in his seat. “You shouldn’t sacrifice your career in order to stay close to me.”

“I believe that’s my decision to make,” Jim says, letting out a startled laugh. “Do you not _want_ us to be together?”

“Of course I do, but not if…” Khan bites his lip, avoiding Jim’s eyes. “You belong in space.”

Jim narrows his eyes, studying Khan intently. “Are you having second thoughts about where this is going? Because I was under the impression that we were on the same page.”

Khan sighs, rubbing a hand across his face. “Jim, you’re an explorer. The universe is your playground. I’ll be locked up on some planet for at least a decade if I’m lucky. Those aren’t exactly ideal circumstances.”

“Screw the circumstances, we can make this work! _If_ we both want it.” Jim continues scrutinizing Khan, doing his best to ignore the lump of fear that has lodged in his chest. “Do you?”

Khan is still not meeting his eyes, and doesn’t answer. The silence drags on until Jim feels like he’s drowning in it.

“So that’s it then?” he asks, his throat closing up. “You’re just going to cut me out of your life because you can’t deal with the fact that people might make sacrifices to be with you?”

“It’s just not feasible.” Khan’s voice is barely above a whisper.

“ _Fuck_ that. This whole thing between us has never been remotely feasible. It’s a little late to start weighing the odds.”

“You’ll end up resenting me if you put your life on hold for my sake.”

“Who said anything about putting my life on hold? I’m perfectly capable of having a life on a planet, thank you very much.”

“Are you?” Khan is looking skeptically at him, which makes Jim wonder who he talked to behind his back. Memories are flashing through Jim’s mind of seedy bars and drunken alley fights, of never really fitting in and not knowing where to go. Starfleet has given Jim a direction and purpose he never had before, that much is true; but Jim will be damned to admit it in front of Khan.

“I’m willing to give this a try, even if you aren’t,” Jim says, rising to his feet and glaring at Khan. “And here I was thinking that your much-proclaimed superiority extended as far as your courage.”

Khan’s eyes flash at the taunt and his hand jerks as if to raise it against Jim, but he remains seated and, to Jim’s dismay, mute. Jim turns on his heel and walks over to the door, where he signals for the guard to return.

He can feel Khan’s eyes on his back while he’s waiting, hoping against hope that Khan might call out for him, apologize, do _anything_ to bring him back.

But nothing happens.

Jim leaves the building with a heavy heart, unable to recall how elated he felt only half an hour ago.

*~*~*

Jim’s bad mood doesn’t let up in the following week. There’s news that the search of the _Vengeance_ wreckage turned up nothing of consequence; apparently, Hunter wiped all records pertaining to her encounter with the Klingonsbefore the _Vengeance_ was destroyed, so they still have no way of knowing what happened to the _Vor’nak_ and her crew. To make matters worse, the hunt for the remaining Section 31 operatives proves equally futile – it seems that they were tipped off and managed to clear out in time before Federation officials could get to them. There isn’t as much as a thumb print left behind.

Somehow, Jim muses, it doesn’t feel like they have won at all.

He spends the bulk of the next few days brooding in his apartment, dwelling on Khan and his dismissal of their future together. To be fair, it’s not as if they ever made any promises or even talked about where their relationship was headed – but Jim had been so sure during their last hours on the _Enterprise_ that they both wanted the same thing. It had felt so _right_ between them, the way they clicked and complemented each other, like two pieces of a jigsaw that had finally found their match. The thought that it might all be over now –

At this point, Jim regularly reaches for what’s left of the Romulan ale Bones gave him for his last birthday and turns on the TV to drown out his thoughts.

After three days, Jim can’t bear the sight of his own four walls any longer, and he heads out to the _Talos Inn_ for a change of scenery. He’s half-way through his second beer when he glimpses two all-too-familiar figures walking in through the door. Jim groans and buries his face in his hands.

“Let me guess,” he says, not looking up at Bones and Spock as they take the bar stools on either side of him. “You’ve come here to check up on me.”

“If you must know, we were a little surprised that you skipped our acquittal celebration,” Bones says. “It’s not like you to miss a good party.”

“You also did not respond to any of our messages,” Spock adds, folding his hands on the bar. “The good doctor was concerned that there might be something wrong with you.”

“Oh, and you weren’t concerned?” Bones snaps, which earns him an indignant look from Spock.

“Seriously, Jim,” Bones continues. “What the hell happened?”

“I just needed some time alone.”

“Bullshit. You’re moping and I don’t need to be a Vulcan to deduce that this has something to do with Khan.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to. Witness preparation starts in two days. Or did you plan to skip that, too?”

“Of course not!” Jim protests. No matter how things stood between them emotionally, he would never jeopardize Khan’s chances at the trial. It’s what this whole thing has been about, after all.

“Records show that you visited Khan the day after our court-martial,” Spock chimes in. “It is only logical to assume that the reason for whatever is troubling you occurred during that time period.”

Jim puts down his glass with more force than strictly necessary. The swig of beer that’s left sloshes dangerously close to the brim.

“Look, I really appreciate you coming here,” Jim says through gritted teeth, barely holding on to his temper. “But I can deal with this on my own. Now why don’t you buy yourselves a drink and tell me more about this witness prep we’re supposed to go to?”

Bones and Spock exchange a look above his head, but Jim can already tell that they’re going to drop the subject. It’s a relief when Bones launches into an account of Khan’s attorneys, which Spock occasionally modifies. Apparently the younger of the two, a man named Hector Salvati, would be leading them through the Q&A the lawyers were preparing for the trial.

“Now, Payne is obviously the more experienced, but he seems to trust Salvati to handle himself in front of a jury,” Bones explains.

“How much do they already know?” Jim asks.

“Everything we put in the report. They know about Khan’s pregnancy and the suspicions we have about Marcus; that Khan was the one who told us about Project Catharsis in the first place; and how he kept the augments in check while they were repairing the _Enterprise_. It all counts in his favor.”

“What about the heat?”

Bones shakes his head. “None of us mentioned any of that when we filed our reports. We’re not stupid, Jim. Your testimony won’t be worth squat if word gets out that you and Khan hooked up. They’ll say you’re biased, and that you’re only helping Khan because you want him to stay on your good side.”

Jim snorts into his glass. ”Yeah, cause that’s gonna happen.”

Spock and Bones exchange another look that makes Jim wish he hadn’t said anything. He quickly changes the subject.

“Have you heard the news about Section 31?”

Spock nods. “We have indeed. If Carol Marcus hadn’t had the presence of mind to save those files she found in her father’s office –”

“…we’d never have been able to prove a thing,” Bones concludes. “It’s a real bummer. I hate the fact that there may still be Section 31 operatives active in Starfleet, plotting their insane little war against the Klingons − and god knows who else.”

“A reasonable assumption,” Spock cuts in, taking a sip of his Altair water. “It is quite unlikely that the organization as a whole will revoke its primary purpose, which seems to be the establishment of a militarized Starfleet. In order to prove to the public that such drastic measures are necessary, they have to present them with a believable threat.”

“Thanks for the recap, Spock,” Bones says, rolling his eyes and turning to Jim. “Do you know anything about our next assignment?”

Jim shakes his head. “Cartwright promised to keep me in the loop, but I haven’t heard from him yet. I suppose that’s not surprising given that so many of us are going to be called to the witness stand in the next weeks. We’ll have to stay earthbound at any rate.”

“What about Khan?” Bones asks after a brief pause. “Is he going to testify?”

Jim shifts on his stool. “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him about it.”

Bones frowns and looks like he’s about to say something more, but then he lets it go with an audible sigh.

They spend the rest of the evening swapping anecdotes about the rest of the crew, never once mentioning Khan or the trial again.

*~*~*

Since there are still a couple of weeks left until he has to take the stand, and the meetings with Khan’s lawyers are few and far between, Jim decides to follow a sudden impulse to visit his mother in Iowa. He barely ever goes there anymore – too many bad memories, too much anger built up – so he’s not entirely sure what he’s looking for when he finds himself lingering on his stepfather’s porch.

The farm hasn’t changed much in recent years: still the same rustic buildings surrounded by acres of farmland stretching as far as the horizon. The air is pleasantly warm and Jim listens to the sounds of early summer for a few minutes before he plucks up his courage and rings the doorbell.

His mother answers on the second buzz. She stops dead when she sees him, clearly unable to believe her eyes, but then she opens the door and steps onto the threshold.

She has aged, if not as much as Jim had anticipated. Her hair is more white than blond now and there are a few more lines around her mouth that weren’t there the last time he saw her, but she has still kept her figure and the fire in her eyes is undimmed.

With a tightening of her jaw, Winona swallows back the tears that are threatening to spill. “You should have called.”

Jim weighs his head. “I know.”

Neither of them manages to hide their smile for very long. Winona opens her arms, grinning widely, and they hug. Jim allows himself to close his eyes and inhale his mother’s scent which, despite everything that’s happened between them, still manages to make him feel at home.

“Is Frank −” Jim starts when they break apart.

“He’s not here. Went into town to get some spare parts for the silo truck.”

Jim nods, suppressing a sigh of relief.

Ten minutes later, they are sitting around the sturdy kitchen table with mugs of tea in front of them.

“So how is everyone?” Jim asks.

“Your brother’s doing well. They’re about to have another baby.”

“Wow, so you’re going to be a grandma again.”

“Still takes some getting used to.” She looks at him, her eyes lingering. “I hear you’ve had a rough few weeks.”

“Yeah, well…the worst is over now. And I still have a job, that’s the good news.” He manages a crooked smile that, from what he can tell, doesn’t convince his mother in the slightest.

“All this for one man,” Winona says pensively, narrowing her eyes at him. “What makes you so sure that he’s worth saving?”

The question throws Jim for a loop. Marcus’s wrongdoings aside, he has never thought about how to explain his rationale regarding Khan to an outsider.

“He’s a great leader. He cares deeply for his people. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his family. I respect that.”

“Is that all?”

Jim does his best not to squirm under his mother’s gaze. She has always been far too perceptive.

“No, that’s not all.” Jim pauses, contemplating a stain on the tablecloth. “He’s an Omega.”

“Oh,” Winona breathes, studying him through half-closed lids before picking up the emptied mugs and carrying them over to the replicator. “I always wondered if your father wouldn’t have been better off marrying an Omega,” she says conversationally. “Sometimes, I felt that I could never live up to what an Omega woman might have been able to give him in my stead.”

“Is that why you married a Beta as soon as he was out of the picture?” Jim asks before he can stop himself. He winces at the scorn in his voice but doesn’t find it in him to apologize.

Winona’s expression hardens. “I had two sons that I was raising on my own. I did what I had to do. You don’t understand what it was like after your father was gone.”

Jim bites back the reply that’s on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t come here to argue, and this is a subject they will never see eye to eye on.

Winona takes a deep breath, apparently reaching the same conclusion. “So what about this Omega? Are you going to stay with him?”

Jim swallows. “He doesn’t want me to.”

“Since when have you ever taken _no_ for an answer?”

“This is different. I can’t pressure him to do this. He’s had his choices taken away from him for far too long. It’s got to be his decision.”

Winona considers him. “Then maybe he needs something more substantial to hold onto in order to change his mind.” She shrugs and turns her attention back to the replicator.

Her words stay with Jim until long after he has gone back to San Francisco and lies awake in his too-empty apartment.

*~*~*

Jim considers going back to the courthouse to visit Khan before the trial, but every time he has convinced himself that this is a good idea, he remembers Khan’s closed-off expression during their last encounter, and his words that cut Jim to the bone: _It’s just not feasible_. As if his feelings for Khan were something he could switch on and off at leisure.

So the weeks pass by and still Jim has made no attempt to reason with Khan or even talk to him again. If he’s honest with himself, it’s not just self-preservation that keeps him from acting, but also a lingering anger and the hope that somehow, _Khan_ will be the one to take the first step towards reconciliation.

Which is a dumb thing to expect, of course, for Khan is not only still locked up, but also bound to be rather busy – the first stage of the trial has finally begun and Khan will have to attend alongside his fellow augments to stand accused for the crimes they committed back in the 1990s. Since Jim and his crew have nothing to contribute to this part of the proceedings, and the trial itself is closed to the public, all Jim can do now is twiddle his thumbs and hope for a chance to catch Khan on his own once they meet in front of the judge.

On the first day they are scheduled to attend, Jim runs into Bones, Spock, and Sulu in the main lobby of the courthouse. All of them are in their dress uniforms, although Bones has taken off his hat and is toying with it in a rather obvious display of nerves.

“Captain,” Sulu greets him and Jim nods back.

“Where are the others?”

“Scotty and Uhura are already upstairs,” Bones says. “We’re still waiting on Chekov though.”

“Trust him to be late to a court date,” Sulu mutters, but there’s no real venom in his voice. “Anyone heard anything about how the trial has been going so far?”

Jim shakes his head. “They’re holding their cards pretty close to their chests. I suppose it’s understandable, given how controversial the matter is.”

“The one thing I don’t get is how they were able to cram over seventy augments into one tiny courtroom,” Bones says, glancing around at the closed doors that branch off the lobby. “That had to be a tight squeeze.”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “That would, of course, have been highly impractical, doctor. The augments − except for Khan, Kati, and Joaquin − were not here in person. They are being held at a special facility in Australia and were enabled to witness the proceedings via a live video chat. It was not necessary for them to attend since Khan and the others testified for them conjointly.”

Bones clenches his jaw at being lectured like this and is clearly on the verge of handing out a scathing retort when they are interrupted by the arrival of Chekov. Their youngest crew member crosses the lobby at a run, pushing his hat down on a mess of still-damp hair.

“Overslept,” he gasps once he comes to a halt in front of them. “Sorry, Captain.”

“Let’s go then,” Jim says with a nod, leading his officers to the elevator and onto the second floor. The doors to the courtroom are already closing, so they hurry inside to join Uhura and Scotty in one of the front rows.

Once Jim has taken his seat, he lets his eyes sweep across the attendants. Even without the presence of six dozen augments, the room is packed. It seems that for this part of the proceedings, the press is allowed in, for there are a number of people with recording devices in the audience. Jim also spots Carol a bit further back, who gives him a tentative smile.  

A hush falls over the room as the double doors at the end of the aisle swing open once more. They reveal an escort of four armed ushers with Khan walking in their midst. Jim has to catch his breath when the group passes them by – Khan’s hands are bound in front of him and he looks pale and drawn, much more so than during Jim’s last visit. He is clearly steeling himself for whatever lies ahead of him, his eyes fixed on the bench and never once straying in Jim’s direction.

Khan sits down in the dock under the watchful gaze of every person in the audience. One of his attorneys – the younger one, Hector Salvati − bends over to whisper something in Khan’s ear, but Jim can’t make out his reaction from behind. Then the bailiff asks that they all rise for the judge’s arrival.

Jim has heard of Judge Satie, but he has never seen him in person. He is an older man with deep lines carved into his face and a thin moustache. Satie takes his place behind the bench and starts off the proceedings, welcoming the jurors and calling for the prosecution to begin their opening statement.

A petite woman with her hair in a tight bun rises and addresses the jury. Her voice is stronger than her small frame suggests and it travels well through the courtroom as she briefly summons up the augments’ rise to power back in the 1990s and their flight from Earth.

“But we are not here to talk about the events of that time period; they have already been dealt with during the first stage of this trial. Today, we are going to tackle crimes that are far more recent, crimes which were committed not by a large number of augments, but by one man: the accused, Khan Noonien Singh.” The prosecutor turns to Khan as she continues her statement. “It was Khan Noonien Singh, then known to Starfleet under his alias John Harrison, who bribed a desperate man into bombing the Kelvin Memorial Archive, causing the deaths of forty-two men and women. It was the same John Harrison who later launched an unprovoked attack against Starfleet Headquarters, single-handedly killing over half a dozen high-ranking Starfleet officers.”

The woman pauses for dramatic effect. “But that’s not all. After this act of wanton destruction, the accused used a stolen transwarp beaming device to trespass into Klingon territory, thus endangering the fragile status quo between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. He later escaped the custody of the crew who was sent to arrest him, that of the _USS Enterprise_ , to commit the brutal murder of Alexander Marcus – an admiral who was, as you all know, the former head of Starfleet Command.”

Jim’s hands have balled into fists at his side. It rankles him to no end to hear Marcus described as the victim in these events, clearly recalling Khan’s breakdown during their first night together − a breakdown _Marcus_ had been the cause of.

“The prosecution will show that the murder of Admiral Marcus was a premeditated, calculated act of vengeance. It will further show that Singh utilized his enhanced abilities both to coerce the late Thomas Harewood into doing his bidding − by bribing him with his own blood to cure the man’s daughter − and to start a war against Starfleet.”

She turns to face the jury once more. “The defendants will no doubt present you with a plethora of motives, reasons, _excuses_ for these attacks. They will try to convince you that Admiral Marcus had the accused backed into a corner, that he left him no other choice than to resort to violence. Whatever you may hear, please bear in mind that Khan Noonien Singh is not only equipped with an intellect and reasoning that far exceed the average human’s, but that there is absolutely no indication that he wasn’t accountable for each and every one of these atrocities. Thank you very much.”

“Thank you, Miss Eris,” the judge says. “Please be seated.”

The prosecutor returns to her table and Jim exchanges a dark look with Bones. That was one hell of an opening statement.

“Good luck following that,” Bones mutters, scowling at the prosecutor’s back.

Hector Salvati has already risen from his seat next to Khan and now steps in front of the bench, all youthful vigor and charm wrapped in an expensive suit. He couldn’t provide a starker contrast to the prosecutor’s stern demeanor.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Salvati begins. “You have all heard the allegations brought against my client: they call him a criminal, a terrorist, a murderer. And you know what?” Salvati leans against the bench, casually crossing his ankles. “They are _right_.”

Jim draws in a sharp breath and can hear many in the audience do the same. Salvati, however, continues as if nothing had happened.

“In fact, my client freely admits to committing the crimes he is accused of. None of the charges are in question. We are going to enter a guilty plea.”

Jim can feel his heart clench in his chest. What the hell is Salvati playing at? Does he _want_ to get Khan committed for murder?

Salvati, meanwhile, takes a moment to let his gaze sweep over the jury and the assembled crowd, allowing their murmurs to wash over him until they subside.

“So why are we here, then? If there is no point of contention between the prosecution and the defense, why waste all our time sitting in a stuffy court room when we could be doing more enjoyable things? I for one can think of a dozen places I’d rather be at right now.”

He smirks at the audience, but drops the smile only a moment later, his expression turning serious.

“We are here because, unlike the prosecutor seems to believe, reasons _do matter_. Motives _do matter_. We would all agree that there is a difference between killing a man in self-defense and killing a man for personal gain. The law differentiates between the two precisely because it’s not only the outcome of an action that has to be looked at, but also the motivation behind it. And Khan Noonien Singh’s motives for his attacks, for killing Admiral Marcus…” Salvati drifts off, letting the sentence hang in the air. “Let’s just say that by the end of the trial, you are going to agree with me that my client had some very good reasons for doing what he did, and that those reasons warrant a reduced sentence.”

The room is silent as Salvati turns to face the jury head-on.

“All I’m asking for is that you keep an open mind. Admiral Marcus is not the upstanding citizen they” – he points at the prosecutor and her team – “are making him out to be − quite the opposite, in fact. During the course of this trial, we will show that Admiral Marcus coerced my client into doing his bidding from the moment he woke him from cryogenic sleep, exploiting his vulnerabilities by threatening him with the lives of his fellow crew members.

I’m sure you’ve all heard the news about Admiral Marcus’ involvement in the secret Starfleet organization known as Section 31. I wish I could tell you that building weapons and hatching military strategies was all Marcus forced Khan to do.” Salvati pauses, swallowing visibly. “But it’s not. So I’m asking you not to judge my client until you have heard the whole story. Thank you.”

There is a murmur in the audience as Salvati sits down at the counsel’s table. Jim turns to Spock, who looks at him with a raised eyebrow, clearly as impressed by the statement as Jim is.

“Not bad,” Bones murmurs while the judge calls for silence and prompts the prosecutor to proceed with her case.

What follows is a detailed account of every crime Khan committed after his flight from the Io Facility: the course of events, the damages, the death toll. There are witnesses called to the stand who survived the attack on Starfleet HQ, who were in the room with Jim when Khan started shooting. Jim has a horrible moment of déjà vu as he remembers Pike’s lifeless body underneath his palms, the admiral’s blank unseeing eyes, once so full of warmth and the belief that somehow, Jim is _worthy_. It’s with a jumbled mix of emotions when Jim looks at Khan now, both the man who murdered his mentor and the Omega he came to know and love so intimately.

Jim is relieved when, after three days of grueling sessions, the prosecution has had their say and the judge calls on Payne and Salvati to present their case for the defense.

They start off detailing how Marcus deliberately chose Khan out of the six dozen augments he came across in outer space, identifying him as the figure from the history books and coming up with a plan to use Khan’s enhanced mind and expertise in military planning for his own purposes – namely, to arm Starfleet against what he perceived to be a major threat to the Federation. They prove that it was Marcus who came up with the alias John Harrison in the first place, that it was he who planted Khan at the Io Facility, keeping the rest of the augments hidden away and suspended in cryogenic sleep.

At this point, Salvati calls Jim to the stand.

Jim can feel his palms getting clammy as he makes his way to the front of the courtroom. Once he is seated in the witness stand, he wipes them down as covertly as possible and lets his gaze sweep over the counsel’s table. Khan still doesn’t look him in the eye. His expression is as guarded and distant as it was when he first came aboard the _Enterprise_.

Salvati gets up from his seat next to Khan and approaches the witness stand. After asking Jim to state his full name for the record, Salvati begins the questioning.

“Captain Kirk, how did you come to meet the defendant?”

“The first time I saw him was during the attack on Starfleet Headquarters. I was in the room when Khan opened fire, and I managed to cripple his jumpship in the battle that followed.”

“You suffered a personal loss on that day, did you not, Captain Kirk?”

Jim swallows. “I did. Admiral Pike was among the casualties. He was the one who recruited me into Starfleet. A good friend.”

“So when Admiral Marcus gave the order to pursue my client to the Klingon homeworld and fire torpedoes at him, what was your initial reaction?”

“It was what I wanted. I was ready to kill Khan at that point for the death of my mentor. I didn’t care about fairness or justice.”

Salvati seems taken aback. “Then it appears you’ve had quite a change of heart during your mission, because you don’t strike me as a man to go back on his promises, and yet Khan is still very much alive.”

Jim gives the hint of a smile. “I was…persuaded by some of my crew to consider the moral implications of killing a man without a trial.” Jim grins at Spock, who he can make out next to Bones in the audience. “And then, of course, I got to know the defendant. Learned more about his background, the motives behind his attacks. The way Admiral Marcus blackmailed him into serving his wishes.”

“What exactly did my client tell you?”

“He said that Marcus deliberately woke him up to help him plot war against the Klingons. Marcus knew about Khan’s past, about who he had been back in the 1990s. He meant to exploit his abilities as a military leader. In order to ensure Khan’s cooperation, he threatened to disable the remaining cryotubes and kill the rest of Khan’s crew.”

Jim can’t help but look at Khan at this point, clearly recalling the tear tracks on his face when they spoke in the _Enterprise_ brig.

“Khan views his crew as his family,” he continues. “As the captain of a starship, I can very much relate to that. He means to keep them safe at all costs. That’s why he cooperated with Admiral Marcus.”

“And what did that cooperation entail?”

“From what Khan told us, Marcus had him build advanced photon torpedoes, assist in the design of the warship _Vengeance_ , and devise military strategies for an attack against the Klingon Empire. We later found out that Marcus had also used Khan’s blood to develop a mutant virus that was meant to target the Klingons on a planetary scale.”

“Your honor,” Salvati addresses the judge, picking up a PADD from the counsel’s table and handing it over to the clerk. “I call your attention to the report Captain Kirk submitted on the course of his mission. It shows that Admiral Marcus not only sabotaged the _USS Enterprise_ , effectively marooning its crew in Klingon space, but that he demanded my client’s extradition at gunpoint with the clear intent to destroy the _Enterprise_ and kill everyone on board. This report is backed up by the ship’s log.”

“Received in evidence,” Satie says, nodding to the clerk.

Salvati turns to Jim once more. “Captain Kirk, in the events that followed – the infiltration of the _USS Vengeance_ , your plan to take Marcus into custody, only to be stopped short by Khan killing the admiral himself – did you still believe that my client was right to act the way he did?”

“No, of course not. I cannot condone murder, neither as a Starfleet captain nor as a human being. But facts came to light in the aftermath that made me reconsider my earlier judgment.”

“What were these facts?”

Jim takes a deep breath. This was it. The bomb was about to be dropped.

“The ship’s physician informed me that Khan had to have been pregnant at one point during the last months. I had already been told that Khan was an Omega, so I knew of his ability to carry offspring. The thing that didn’t add up was that Khan’s body couldn’t have gone into heat on its own after being frozen for almost three hundred years – which led us to conclude that the heat had to have been induced.”

Jim pauses, considering his next words.

“Admiral Marcus was the only Alpha stationed at the Io Facility during the time Khan was there. The evidence suggests that it was Marcus who induced Khan’s heat, and that it was he who fathered the child Khan later lost.”

“Objection,” the prosecutor says from behind her table. “This is pure conjecture on the witness’s part.”

“He is merely espousing his line of thought,” Salvati says, looking at the judge.

“Overruled,” Satie says after a brief deliberation. “The witness is stating the course of events. Please proceed, Mr. Salvati.”

“Thank you, your honor. Captain Kirk, was that the only conclusion you and your ship’s doctor arrived at after you found out about the pregnancy?”

Jim swallows. “No. Given his hatred of Marcus and some of his behavior, we could only deduce that Khan…that the defendant had been raped by Admiral Marcus while under his command.”

There is an audible gasp by many in the audience. Jim’s gaze is drawn to Carol, who looks shocked and slightly nauseated.

Salvati allows a few moments for the crowd to calm down before resuming his inquiry. “Did you confront my client with your findings, Captain Kirk?”

Jim nods, thinking of how defensive Khan had become when asked about it. “I did. He confirmed our suspicions. There was no doubt left about what Marcus had done.”

Salvati crosses his arms in front of his chest, making a show out of mulling over Jim’s words. “Then how come this is the first we hear about it? A scandal like this, the public outcry should have been considerable. Didn’t you report your findings to Starfleet Command?”

“Of course I did,” Jim says, shifting in his seat. “In fact, I brought the matter to Admiral Hunter’s attention personally.”

“Admiral Hunter had by then succeeded Alexander Marcus as head of Starfleet Command,” Salvati says as an aside before turning back to Jim. “And what was her reaction? Did she not believe you?”

“Oh no, she did. But she still didn’t want to pursue the matter. Her reasoning was that it would be detrimental to the image of Starfleet Command if one of their highest-ranking admirals was charged with sexual assault.”

There is some muttering among the audience which Satie silences with a glare.

“And was that the point where you decided to break Khan out of prison?” Salvati asks.

“Yes, it was. Hunter’s attitude showed me that there was no reasoning with Starfleet’s higher-ups. Khan would never get the fair trial he deserved. I vowed to give him that chance,” Jim says, glancing over at Khan, who briefly meets his eyes before looking away again.

“Did you at any point during the mission regret your decision to help my client?”

Jim shakes his head. “No. Khan was invaluable to us. Without him, we never would have found out about Project Catharsis. He helped safeguard the ship during our voyage and when we woke up the augments to assist with repairs, he kept them in line and even got them to turn themselves in once we reached Earth.”

“All this has been well documented,” Salvati says, picking up another PADD from his table and passing it along. “So you’re saying that Khan did in fact play a crucial role in unearthing Section 31’s plans to annihilate the Klingons, a matter you yourself brought before the Federation Council?”

“Yes,” Jim says with conviction. “We couldn’t have done it without him.”

“Well, I can certainly see why you changed your mind about killing my client,” Salvati says with a chuckle. “No further questions, your honor.” He nods at the judge and returns to his seat next to Khan.

“Your witness, Miss Eris,” Satie says.

Jim braces himself for the prosecutor’s line of questioning as she makes her way over to the witness stand.

“Captain Kirk,” Eris begins. “You speak very highly of the defendant. It almost makes me wonder how a man like the one you’re describing could have had it in him to kill over fifty innocent people.”

Jim clears his throat. “There’s different sides to all of us, I guess.”

“So you don’t deny that the Khan Noonien Singh you just praised so highly was the same man who murdered not only your mentor but also the head of Starfleet Command?”

“Of course not. Like I said, I do believe that Khan needs to be judged for the crimes he committed. I’m just saying that that’s not all there is to it. If Admiral Marcus hadn’t blackmailed Khan the way he did, things might never have gotten out of hand.”

“So in your point of view, Admiral Marcus’s actions diminish the defendant’s culpability?”

“To some extent, yes,” Jim says, shifting in his seat. He doesn’t like where this is going. Eris sounds like a snake ready to sink her fangs into a prey.

“Very well, then let’s take a closer look at the reasons for your assessment. You mentioned that the discovery of an aborted pregnancy led you to deduce that Admiral Marcus had raped the defendant. That’s a bit of a far-fetched conclusion to draw from a cluster of scar tissue, don’t you think?”

“Khan’s metabolism isn’t the same as the average human’s. His body has the ability to heal itself more quickly and thoroughly. The fact that there was scar tissue at all proved to us that some major trauma must have caused it.” Jim risks a glance at Bones, who nods encouragingly.

“Still, it seems like an awfully big leap from an aborted pregnancy to arrive at sexual assault. Admiral Marcus was a highly respected Starfleet officer. He had no criminal record prior to this instance and his colleagues – Alphas, Betas, and Omegas alike – always spoke well of him. Isn’t it far more likely that Mr. Singh deliberately sought out the admiral’s company, maybe even seduced him in the hopes of gaining access to his resources?”

“If by resources you mean finding out where the rest of his crew was being held captive, then I agree that that could have been a motive for Khan,” Jim says delicately, trying to quell his anger at Eris’ insinuation. “However, Khan’s physical condition wasn’t the only factor that raised our suspicions. There were other things we noticed.”

“Like what?”

“Khan was jumpy, he was easily startled. Gave my chief engineer a black eye at one point. He couldn’t sleep, and flinched when touched unexpectedly. According to Dr. McCoy’s diagnosis, those were clear symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.”

“Couldn’t those symptoms have simply been caused by the time the defendant spent in cryostasis and his subsequent awakening?”

“You’d have to ask a doctor about that.”

“Oh, I will,” Eris says, checking something on the PADD in her hand.

Jim yearns to elaborate on Khan’s symptoms: the way he went catatonic after the first time they had made love; Khan’s feelings of shame when he became aroused during sex; the sobs that wracked his body after he had finally been able to let go. There would be no doubt left in anyone’s mind if they had seen Khan as Jim had seen him that night.

He becomes aware that Khan is looking at him and meets his gaze. Khan seems almost fearful, as though he knew exactly what Jim was thinking about and was afraid that he might actually disclose his secrets in front of the whole courtroom.

Jim gives a smile and shakes his head minutely. He has sworn never to talk about what happened during Khan’s heat, and he is not going to break his promise now.

“Captain Kirk, would you consider yourself a man of integrity?” Eris startles Jim out of his reverie.

Jim frowns. “I suppose so.”

“I only ask because your service record paints quite a different picture. Weren’t you stripped of your captaincy and demoted to the rank of commander just before Mr. Singh’s attack on HQ?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Would you tell the court why?”

“I violated the Prime Directive by preventing the eruption of a volcano on an alien planet and exposed the _Enterprise_ to a pre-warp culture.”

“Thus altering its natural evolution.”

Jim squirms a little. “In my defense, it was the only way to save my first officer from –”

“My point is: you have a history of playing fast and loose with the rules, Captain Kirk. Forgive me if this leads me to question your suitability as a witness. After all, you broke a guilty man out of prison and made off into space in a stolen starship.”

“Objection,” Salvati interrupts. “The witness has already been cleared of those charges before the Federation Council. If it hadn’t been for Captain Kirk’s propensity to bend the rules, Starfleet would now be guilty of genocide! I think that outweighs any doubts about his suitability and, if anything, only serves to _affirm_ Captain Kirk’s worth as a witness.”

“Sustained,” Satie says. “Miss Eris, please return to your original inquiry.”

Eris looks as though she just bit into something sour. “I have no further questions, your honor.”

“Captain Kirk, you may stand down,” Satie addresses Jim, who doesn’t waste any time returning to his seat next to Bones and Spock. “Counsel, call your next witness.”

*~*~*

The second week of Khan’s trial starts off with the testimonies of Jim’s fellow crew members: Scotty, Uhura, Spock, and, most notably, Bones, who has to endure having his credibility as a doctor challenged by the prosecutor. Eris still seems bent on refuting the charges of sexual assault, clearly recognizing them as the deciding factor to sway the jury in Khan’s favor. Bones, however, never once wavers in his interpretation of Khan’s symptoms as the result of rape and even goes so far as to call it “the most logical explanation of all the facts” – a phrase that has Spock start up in his seat in amazement.

On the day Khan is about to be called to the witness stand, Jim arrives at the courthouse earlier than usual. He is considering taking a stroll outside to pass the time when he catches sight of Khan being led through the hallway by his four guards.

Khan’s eyes widen when he notices him and Jim manages a weak smile, infusing it with all the sincerity he can muster. For a moment, Jim is tempted to walk up to Khan, to have that talk they should have had weeks ago, but the thought of having four by-standers listening in on their conversation is more than enough to put him off. He remains frozen to the spot instead, letting his gaze linger on Khan’s retreating back until the group enters the courtroom. The undercurrent of anger Jim had felt so strongly before the trial seems to have drained away and all that he’s left with now is a profound sadness at the chasm between them that appears to be as insurmountable as ever.

The prosecutor seems to be in a particularly foul mood today, if the way she agitatedly rummages through a pile of PADDs on her table is anything to go by. Khan is the last witness being called for the defense; immediately following, the jury is going to retire for deliberation for however long it will take them to reach a verdict.

“You may begin,” Satie says in the direction of the counsel’s table once they have all resumed their places.

“Your honor, the defense calls Khan Noonien Singh to the stand.”

At a nod from the judge, Khan rises from his seat next to Salvati and approaches the witness stand. His hands, Jim notices, have been left unbound for the occasion, but there are two guards stationed next to him that weren’t there on the day Jim had testified.

Khan looks calm and collected, ready to face whatever the prosecutor might throw at him. Jim notices Salvati give Khan an encouraging nod before he gets up and approaches his client.

“Mr. Singh,” he begins after having asked Khan to state his full name for the record. “Please describe in your own words the events leading up to you approaching the Section 31 operative Thomas Harewood.”

To hear Khan talk about his time at the Io Facility – a subject he had diligently avoided during his stay on the _Enterprise_ – is a two-fold experience for Jim. On the one hand, he is glad to finally have someone fill in the missing pieces, yet he can’t help imagining himself in Khan’s shoes, under the thumb of a sadistic maniac with the lives of his crew hanging in the balance. The thought alone makes him feel sick.

Khan doesn’t mention the rapes, though his words are laden with subtext when it comes to his dealings with Marcus. Jim wonders how Khan does it – compartmentalizing the experience, shutting off parts of himself until only the cursory events remained. Jim knows that Khan is bound to remember each and every encounter with Marcus in vivid detail, thanks to that eidetic memory of his.

Salvati doesn’t call Khan out on his omissions. They have obviously reached some sort of agreement not to discuss the assaults, relying purely on the circumstantial evidence to prove Marcus’s guilt and exonerate Khan. Jim, however, highly doubts that the prosecutor will show the same restraint to protect Khan’s peace of mind.

He is proven correct barely two hours later. There is a brief break before the prosecutor’s questioning, allowing everyone to stretch their legs and head for the restroom. Jim seizes the opportunity to grab a snack from the cafeteria.

Once they are all reassembled in the court room, Eris wastes no time getting straight to the point.

“Mr. Singh, we have all heard your previous testimony. I must admit, I was a little surprised to hear you speak so casually about your interactions with Admiral Marcus. From what the other witnesses for the defense have told the court, I was under the impression that the two of you had quite a different sort of history together."

She pauses, clearly expecting some sort of reaction from Khan. When none is forthcoming, Eris continues: “The fact that you didn’t mention any untoward actions from Admiral Marcus leads me to conclude that either the previous witnesses have fallen victim to a collective misassumption, or else you haven’t been entirely truthful in your testimony today. Which is it, Mr. Singh?”

Jim watches Khan’s eyes flicker towards the defense attorneys before he clears his throat to answer the question.

“There were…incidents between the admiral and myself which I chose not to elaborate on, given that they have already been reported by others.”

“And you didn’t deem it necessary to give us a first-hand account of these ‘incidents’? You do realize that it is possible to lie by omission, don’t you, Mr. Singh?”

“Objection,” Salvati says from behind the counsel’s table. “The prosecutor is badgering the witness.”

“Sustained,” Satie says. “Rephrase your question, Miss Eris.”

If the prosecutor is ruffled by the judge’s ruling, she doesn’t let it show.

“Well then,” she ploughs on, turning back to Khan. “Would you be so kind as to describe these incidents you spoke of, the ones you chose ‘not to elaborate on’? When was the first time you noticed Admiral Marcus’s so-called advances?”

Khan takes a moment to gather his thoughts before he answers.

“He touched me in the science lab one day. We were alone at the time, everyone else had gone. The admiral pushed me against a console and grabbed my behind.” He swallows. “But even before that, I knew that the admiral had a physical interest in me. He would look at me a certain way and comment on parts of my body. It started right after I was awoken.”

“And how did you feel about the admiral’s interest? He was an Alpha, after all, a most compatible companion to your Omega nature. Was there a part of you that enjoyed the attention?”

Jim can feel his anger rising at the way Eris poses the question. Khan, however, seems unfazed and simply shakes his head. “No, I didn’t enjoy it. Admiral Marcus had already strong-armed me into working for him by threatening to kill my crew. I held no affection towards him.”

“Nevertheless, you managed to go into heat during your time at the Io Facility. From what I know about Omega physiology, that couldn’t have happened in an unsafe environment. Your biology would have prevented it.”

“I was given injections that overrode my natural instincts and caused me to go into heat regardless. I never should have been able to after having been frozen for centuries.”

“Do you have any proof that it was those injections that caused your heat?”

Khan is silent for a moment. “No.”

“So this is mere speculation on your part.”

“There is no other explanation.”

“Well, you could have felt attracted to Admiral Marcus and that attraction could have triggered a natural heat. Isn’t that how things work between Alphas and Omegas?”

Jim shifts in his seat. That hits a little too close to home considering what happened between him and Khan on the _Enterprise_. Eris clearly has done her homework on Omega physiology.

“That wasn’t the case,” Khan says, and for the first time, Jim can hear a hint of defensiveness in his voice. “I never felt attracted to Admiral Marcus.”

Eris must have picked up on Khan’s stumble for she raises her eyebrows in an ostensive gesture of skepticism.

“I see. So once you went into heat, I assume you continued to reject the admiral’s advances?”

Khan’s jaw is working so hard Jim swears he can hear his teeth grind. “No.”

“No? So you were open to his overtures then?”

“I had no choice. I would have died if I hadn’t been.”

“Please make your point, Miss Eris,” Satie interrupts, much to Jim’s relief.

“My point is that I find it difficult to believe that a respected, highly commended Starfleet admiral should have had the chance to sexually assault one of his subordinates without _anybody_ catching on. All we have here is circumstantial evidence. There are no witnesses to support Mr. Singh’s accusations. No one reported anything untoward going on at the facility. This suggests that the defendant must have been an accomplice in helping the admiral cover up their sexual relationship, which I suspect was, in fact, entirely consensual.”

“It wasn’t,” Khan says through gritted teeth.

“But where is the proof?” Eris continues, not missing a beat. “Are we supposed to just take your word on this, the word of a terrorist and mass murderer who has shown no qualms about using his superior abilities to manipulate those around him every which way?”

“I am telling the truth!” Khan says, eyes blazing.

“Very well then, by all means – then _tell_ us. Explain to us, in detail, how Admiral Marcus forced you, a genetically enhanced superhuman, into having coitus with him _against your will_. Why didn’t you fight back if you were so opposed to the idea? You must have ten times the strength of the late Admiral Marcus, despite your Omega physiology.”

“Marcus had my crew –”

“So you keep saying. But with your intellect, shouldn’t you have been able to work your way around that? It didn’t stop you from fleeing Io a few months later. You chose to leave your crew behind then, why not earlier?”

“I did not _choose_ to leave my crew behind,” Khan says, now visibly flustered. “I had a plan to save them, it just didn’t…it didn’t work. I was discovered.”

“How convenient. Frankly, I find it more than a little galling for you to be playing the victim now when the families of the officers you murdered are still mourning their loved ones. It’s an insult to their memory and I can only hope that the jurors are not taken in by your tasteless attempt at swaying them and will instead confine themselves to the facts of this case.”

“Objection, your honor!” Salvati yells, jumping to his feet. “The prosecutor is out of line. Insinuations about the defendant’s character are not admissible in this court!”  

“I withdraw my previous wording,” Eris says smoothly, straightening her bun.

Satie nods and turns to the jurors. “Members of the jury, you are instructed to disregard the prosecutor’s last statement. Please proceed, Miss Eris.”

Jim chances a glance at Khan, and winces in sympathy. Khan is ashen-faced, his lower lip is trembling, and judging by the way he keeps clenching and unclenching his fists he seems to have a hard time maintaining his composure.

Jim can barely restrain himself from leaping the bar and having a go at the prosecutor. Seeing Khan’s sincerity called into question like this is physically painful. They all went into this trial knowing full well that it would be a major challenge to prove Marcus guilty, but witnessing Khan being taken apart like this… It’s the last thing he deserves.

The cross-examination goes on and on. Eris keeps bombarding Khan with questions, scrutinizing each and every one of his actions from the moment he was awoken until their return to Earth. By the end of it, Khan looks as drained as Jim has ever seen him, stumbling over his feet on his way back to the counsel’s table.

Thankfully, at this point, the judge declares a recess, which means the closing arguments will be delayed until Monday. There is a collective sigh of relief from the audience at the judge’s announcement. Even the jurors look the worse for wear, worn out and exhausted like it was them, not Khan, who were put through the wringer all day.

Jim can’t keep his eyes off Khan while the crowd disperses. The four ushers have already gathered around him, phasers dangling at their belts, and have taken him into their midst. Jim watches as Salvati shakes his hand, briefly patting Khan’s shoulder before allowing him to be led away by his escort.

Jim follows a sudden hunch and makes after them through the courtroom door, but he has barely taken a step outside when there’s a tug on his sleeve.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Bones’ forehead is contracted in a frown as he falls in step with him.

“He looks like hell,” is all Jim says, not slowing down.

They follow the group around a corner down an empty corridor, which probably leads back to the holding cells. Jim is still busy making up an excuse to be allowed to talk to Khan when the group suddenly stops. There is a brief discussion before two of the guards take position at either side of a door to their left, while the remaining two disappear behind it with Khan.

“Restroom,” Bones says.

Jim nods. This is their chance.

“Since there’s probably squat I can say to change your mind, let me do the talking,” Bones mutters under his breath while they move closer.

Jim is more than happy to let Bones take the lead seeing as all he’s come up with so far involves dire threats and a whole lot of shouting.

“Dr. Leonard McCoy, Starfleet Medical,” Bones says as they approach, flashing his ID. “We’re here to check on the prisoner.”

The two guards flanking the door look at each other. “We weren’t informed there was going to be a doctor’s visit.”

“It’s short notice. Given what happened in the courtroom today, I cannot in good faith let you lock this man up without first making sure he’s come out of it all right.”

The left guard seems ready to object and Jim can tell they are going to have a fight on their hands, when suddenly the door to the restroom opens and a third guard peeks out.

“Guys, I think we’re gonna need a doctor in here,” he says, then starts at the sight of Jim and Bones. “What the hell?”

“I _am_ a doctor. Let me through!” Bones bellows, seizing the general confusion to elbow the guard out of his way and push through the gap in the door. Jim follows him in, barely containing the flare of panic at the thought that there might be something genuinely wrong with Khan.

The restroom, at first glance, is empty, but as soon as he’s inside, Jim can hear the sound of violent retching coming from one of the stalls. He exchanges a look with Bones, who nods at him encouragingly.

Jim takes a deep breath and steps in front of the only stall that seems occupied.

“Khan?” he says when there’s a pause between heaves. “Khan, it’s me. Are you all right?”

 _Stupid question_ , Jim admonishes himself as soon as the words have left his mouth. Of course Khan wasn’t all right. He tries again.

“Do you need anything?”

No answer, just another bout of strangled retching that makes Jim cringe in sympathy. He drags a hand over his face, thinking.

Bones, meanwhile, has barred the guards’ way and has actually managed to talk them into leaving the room, granting them a certain level of privacy. This is certainly going to make things easier.

“Khan, the guards are gone. It’s just us now,” Jim says into the quiet. “Please, let us help you.”

There is some shuffling and a few seconds later, the stall opens to reveal Khan, looking disheveled and white as chalk. His eyes meet Jim’s for a heartbeat before he passes him, still unsteady on his feet, and walks over to the sinks. Jim and Bones watch as Khan opens a tap and splashes his face with water, wincing at the taste when he rinses his mouth.

It’s heartbreaking to see Khan’s hands shake, to hear his shallow breathing. Jim can’t find the right words to say. Whenever he had thought about running into Khan these past weeks, Jim had imagined accusations and swearing and, when he allowed himself to, some passionate making up afterwards. But this is the place for neither. The last thing Khan needs right now is for Jim to make it all about them, or worse, _himself_ and his hurt feelings.

Instead, Jim chooses the one thing his instincts are screaming at him: he reaches out to touch Khan’s shoulder, making sure Khan sees the movement coming in the mirror above the sink. Khan watches him in silence but doesn’t object, so Jim feels confident enough to complete the gesture.

It’s as if Jim’s touch is the final straw for Khan. The tremors wracking his body amplify until he’s shaking all over, tears spilling down his nose onto the sink. Before Khan has the chance to hide them, Jim gathers him into his arms and draws him close. Khan tenses up for a moment but then he lets go, clutching at Jim as if he was the only thing to keep him standing.

“I’m sorry,” Jim whispers into Khan’s hair over the sobs that make his own throat tighten in response. “This shouldn’t have happened. I’m so sorry.”

He kisses the top of Khan’s head while he allows himself to be flooded with all the love he has kept bottled up these past weeks. Once again Jim is struck by how _right_ it feels to have Khan in his arms, how having him close seems to mend something deep inside him, and he never wants to let go again.

At that moment, Jim makes a silent vow to go to any length to fix this thing between them. He is going to make Khan understand that putting his career on hold means nothing to Jim compared to the pain of losing this, losing _them_ − and this time, he is not going to stop until he succeeds.

A soft whirring sound breaks Jim out of his reverie, and when he opens his eyes he can see Bones holding his tricorder aloft and scanning Khan with a frown on his face.

“Is he okay?” Jim asks over Khan’s shoulder.

“As well as can be expected,” Bones says, his eyes fixed on the readout. “I’d like to give him a mild sedative, so he can sleep.”

Khan’s voice is muffled against Jim’s chest. “I don’t need one.”

Bones rolls his eyes. “Whatever happened to heeding your doctor’s advice? Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He snaps his tricorder shut. “Those muscles out there aren’t going to be patient much longer. I suggest you make yourselves presentable before they barge in here and arrest us all.”

Jim nods and releases his death grip on Khan. There’s a wet patch on his uniform right above his heart, but Jim couldn’t care less. Khan slowly gathers himself and bends over the sink once more to wash his face.

Jim is loath to part with Khan, knowing that he was going to be locked up in some barren cell in his state. But there’s nothing Jim can do right now to prevent it, unless he wants to butt heads with the powers that be (again), which certainly wouldn’t go over well with the judge.

He confines himself to picking a piece of imaginary lint off Khan’s shirt before turning away, clamping down firmly on his protective instincts before exiting the restroom.


	13. Part Four (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The End. After all this time! :)
> 
> Thank you all SO MUCH for your support, whether you’ve shown it in the form of kudos, comments, or simply reading this fic – you’ll never know how much it helped me to keep going. I honestly would not have been able to finish this story without you. 
> 
> I realize that the ending screams _sequel!_ and I do hope I’ll be able to return to this verse someday, but I can’t make any promises. It still seems fitting to end this story at this point and I hope it doesn’t leave the reader with too many loose ends. 
> 
> A huge final thank you goes to my betas, [JayEz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JayEz/pseuds/JayEz) and [NurseDarry](http://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/pseuds/NurseDarry). You’ve both contributed so much to this story and I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you so much for your support and for taking the time to help improve this fic as it evolved! <3

The closing statements take up all of Monday morning. Khan still looks ill, as if the weekend had done nothing to refresh him. Jim itches to go over to the counsel’s table and offer some sort of comfort, but as things stand, he is forced to watch from afar as Khan is forced to listen to the prosecutor detailing his crimes once more.

It quickly becomes clear that the jury isn’t going to reach a verdict any time soon and is going to be sequestered for further deliberation. Jim spends the next ten hours in a state of frazzled nerves, barely catching any sleep while weighing all possible outcomes against each other over and over again. Finally, when he receives a message that the verdict is going to be announced, Jim can’t get to the courthouse fast enough.

The atmosphere in the room is excited. People in the gallery are chatting animatedly until the judge arrives and takes his seat behind the bench. At this, total silence falls and Jim can see many in the audience sit up a little straighter so as not to miss anything.

Then the jury is called in. They are wearing grave faces and look rumpled and sleep-deprived as they drag themselves into the box.

“Have you agreed on a verdict?” Satie asks the foreman, a middle-aged man in a maroon jumper who is the only one left standing.

“We have, your honor.”

This is it. Jim bites his lip in a futile attempt to calm his nerves.

The foreman takes out a slip of paper and unfolds it. “We, the jury,” he reads aloud, “find Khan Noonien Singh guilty as charged.”

Even though that was to be expected, Jim’s throat closes up at hearing the words.

“However,” the foreman continues. “We do recognize a series of mitigating circumstances in the defendant’s favor. It is the opinion of this jury that Mr. Singh has been treated by the late Admiral Marcus in a manner that defies all laws of humanity. In addition, Mr. Singh reportedly assisted the crew of the starship _Enterprise_ to circumvent a serious threat to the security of the Federation. And while there is no concrete evidence of sexual assault, we agree with Dr. McCoy’s evaluation that the defendant does indeed suffer the aftereffects of a traumatic experience, which could only have been induced by the late Admiral Marcus. Mr. Singh is therefore eligible for victim compensation, which we recommend as a reduced sentence for the crimes he is tried for before this court, to wit a sentence of fifteen years in a high-security facility.”

Jim closes his eyes. Fifteen years. That’s less that it could have been, for sure.

The foreman continues. “As regards the first stage of this trial and the augments as a collective, we agree with the guilty verdict passed by the Earth government three hundred years ago. As has been suggested by this court and given the potential threat the augments pose to the security of this planet, we recommend that they not be imprisoned on Earth. Instead, the augments are to be exiled to a world chosen by the Federation to live out their natural lives. This planet will have to be put under strict quarantine so as not to endanger the remaining inhabitants of this quadrant. We, the jury, deem this a fair verdict that takes into account the augments’ cooperation with the crew of the starship _Enterprise_ and the authorities on Earth since their arrival.”

Jim lets out a breath. Exiling the augments to a world of their own instead of imprisoning them seems like a remarkably sensible solution. Not only would they be effectively contained, but it would give the augments the chance to build a society suited to their own needs without the risk of anyone else being harmed in the process.

“Is that all?” the judge asks.

The foreman clears his throat. “We have one further recommendation. Taking into account the emotional damage Starfleet has inflicted upon Mr. Singh and the obvious familial bonds between the defendant and his crew we would consider it a gesture of mercy if Mr. Singh be given the choice to join his fellow augments in exile for life rather than having to serve his prison sentence.”

There’s a collective gasp from the audience. Jim throws a glance at Bones and Spock next to him, who seem equally flabbergasted. Granting Khan the opportunity to join his family would indeed be the most merciful sentence anyone could have hoped for. What’s more, Jim has no doubts about what Khan would choose if the judge agreed to go along with the deal.

Then the full meaning of the word _quarantine_ suddenly catches up with him and Jim feels a heavy weight settle in his chest. Would that mean –?

He can barely listen to the judge over the rushing in his ears. Satie sums up the charges and goes along with the jury’s guilty verdict as well as their recommendation to have the augments exiled from Earth. Then he returns to the subject of Khan.

“As regards the defendant, this court agrees with the jury’s recommendation that Mr. Singh be given the choice to join his fellow augments in exile rather than be incarcerated.” Satie turns to the stenographer. “You may record the verdict. Everyone remain seated until the jury is removed.”

Jim is stupefied. Thoughts are tumbling around in his head, evoking a rollercoaster of emotions that has him trembling in its wake. He knows he should be jubilant, should celebrate Khan’s victory and the fact that the jury sided with him, but all he can think of is that his great plan of staying close to Khan during his imprisonment has just collapsed in on itself. Instead, Jim now faces the very real possibility that he might never see Khan again for _life_.

Jim barely notices the jurors filing out of the courtroom. Only the strike of the gavel makes him look up to find Bones and Spock both watching him closely.

“You okay?” Bones asks.

Jim can only nod.

“It’s not a bad idea, don’t you think?” Bones continues, his eyes never leaving Jim’s face. “Exiling the augments to a planet of their own.”

Jim swallows. “I guess so.”

“It’s certainly the most prudent course of action,” Spock agrees, his gaze flickering to Bones as if he was hoping for a conversational clue.

“And just because a planet’s under quarantine doesn’t mean it can’t be visited, right?” Bones adds with forced lightness. “Surely Starfleet’s got to keep an eye on what the augments are up to.”

Spock looks like he is about to interject something, but a glare from Bones has him stop dead in his tracks.

Jim’s attention wanders to the group gathered around Khan. It consists of his attorneys and the four guards, who for once appear in no hurry to lead Khan off the premises.

Khan looks…like he hasn’t quite grasped what’s happened yet. His face seems caught between a frown and a smile as he shakes hands with Salvati and Payne, who in contrast have the undiluted air of victory about them. The prosecutor passes them by without a word as she leaves the courtroom, PADDs clutched tightly to her chest.

“Jim?”

He startles at a quiet voice beside him. It’s Carol, looking up at him through red-rimmed eyes. For a moment, it seems to Jim like his own inner turmoil is reflected back at him. Then he reminds himself that Carol can’t possibly know how he feels about Khan and forces his mind back on the present.

“Jim, I have to know…” Carol starts, her voice shaking. “Is it true? What you and Dr. McCoy said. Did my father –” She breaks off, wrapping her arms around herself as if afraid she might fall apart. Jim has never seen her like this.

Then it dawns on him. Of _course_. Carol hadn’t known about the rapes before the trial. Jim never thought to tell her and probably wouldn’t have even if he had, given his relationship with Khan. He can’t imagine what it must have felt like for her, having to listen to their testimonies about her own father committing this kind of assault.

Jim doesn’t give an answer, and figures that Carol doesn’t really need one.

She sweeps her eyes over the deserted bench a few feet away. “I keep asking myself how I didn’t pick up on it. I was there, wasn’t I? At the Io Facility. Each time I visited… I should have known –”

“Carol,” Jim stops her. “You couldn’t have. Your father did everything in his power to hide the truth from you, and Khan didn’t trust anyone to tell. There was no way you could have known.”

She nods, biting her lip, but shakes her head a moment later.

“There’s nothing you could have done,” Jim says, touched that she would care so much. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Jim,” Bones says from behind him. “They need us to clear out.”

“Coming.” He turns back to Carol. “Will you be all right?”

Carol pauses for a second, then nods, clenching her jaw.

“Take care of yourself, Carol.”

Jim watches her as she walks away. When he looks back at the counsel’s table, expecting to see Khan and his escort, the place is empty.

*~*~*

It takes Jim two whole days to come out of his stupor and develop a new plan of action. He’s not sure how much good it will do, given the circumstances, but it’s better than sitting here and surrendering to the pit of despair he finds himself trapped in.

He still doesn’t know about Khan’s decision and hasn’t dared to ask around. There’s the tiniest hope that Khan might choose imprisonment rather than exile – but even in his own mind that thought rings false. Khan belongs with his people and expecting him to choose a life where he might get to see Jim every once in a while over colonizing a planet alongside his family… Jim could never ask that of him.

Still, he will not waste this opportunity to be with Khan one last time before they have to say their final goodbyes.

It takes some doing, but Jim eventually convinces Cartwright – who by now has succeeded Charlize Hunter as head of Starfleet Command – to grant him permission to ferry the augments to their permanent exile on the _Enterprise_. They don’t have long to prepare, so Jim assembles a skeleton crew and tells Scotty to warm up the engines.

Much of the ship will be taken up by the Starfleet security detail assigned to the augments for the duration of their journey. Jim reckons the guards are going to outnumber the augments at least two to one, which means assigning quarters will be a nightmare. It’s a good thing they’ve stocked up on bunk beds.

Jim is given the full passenger list on the day they are scheduled to depart. He has just sat down in the captain’s chair surrounded by the soothingly familiar beeping and clicking of instruments and the occasional chatter of the bridge crew. Jim skims the list until he gets to the augments and there, at the very bottom, is the name Jim knew would be there but somehow still hoped wouldn’t be.

He signs off on the PADD, and hands it back to the ensign with a sigh. There’s no turning back now. Khan and he would have a few days left together, and that would be it. He’d better get used to the fact.

“Incoming transmission from Earth, Captain,” Uhura says from her station. “It’s Admiral Cartwright.”

“Put him on screen.”

“Jim,” Cartwright says in greeting as his thin, angular face fills the main screen. 

“Admiral.”

“Have you received the manifest?”

“Just signed off on it.”

“Good. The augments are standing by to be beamed aboard the _Enterprise_. We can begin whenever you’re ready.”

“Then let’s get to it. Where are we taking them?”

“Ceti Alpha V.” Cartwright pauses, clearly waiting for Jim’s reaction. “I trust you’re familiar with the planet.”

Jim gapes at him. “I am indeed, sir. We encountered it while we were… I mean, it’s near the Mutara Nebula.”

Cartwright nods. “It was actually your log that gave us the idea. The _Enterprise_ ’s long-range scans indicate that Ceti Alpha V can support human life. The terrain may be a bit rough, but we believe the augments are more than able to handle it.”

Jim nods, trying to digest the news. “Ceti Alpha V is awfully close to the Klingon border. What if the augments are attacked? I doubt you’re going to equip them with phasers.”

“Starfleet border patrols will pick up any incursion from the Klingon Empire and act accordingly. The augments’ colony is going to be under Federation protection at all times. Don’t worry, Jim. They’ll be safe.”

Jim is not entirely convinced but decides to table his concerns for now.

“Very well, sir. I’ll contact you again once we’re ready to leave. Kirk out.”

The next couple of hours pass by in a flash as Jim alternates between the bridge and the transporter room to oversee the transfer of the augments and their guards. He catches a glimpse of Kati, who looks at him all-too-knowingly before being led away to her quarters, but misses Khan’s arrival, much to his chagrin.

In no time, everything’s in place for their departure. Sulu navigates them gently out of Spacedock, and they’re off. 

Having a detachment of Starfleet security personnel on board makes the _Enterprise_ feel more like a war ship than an exploratory vessel. Everywhere Jim goes he bumps into surly, heftily-built guards armed to the teeth. It’s almost like having the Klingons back.

A couple of hours after their departure, Jim finds himself lingering in front of an unobtrusive door flanked by two security personnel who are doing their best to pretend he’s not there. Jim has no idea what he is going to say once he’s passed that threshold, if there even _is_ anything left to say – he just knows that he can’t let Khan slip out of his life without even trying to resolve some of the issues between them.

Before he has made up his mind to make his presence known the door opens and Jim is confronted with the grim countenance of Joaquin. The augment’s face sours even more once he becomes aware of Jim, and he probably would have barred the door if it hadn’t been for the two security guards on his heel. Jim steps aside to let the three men pass, nodding a greeting at the guards as they escort Joaquin out into the corridor. Then he seizes the opportunity to squeeze into the room through the closing door.

Khan is standing half-bent over the bed, folding a piece of clothing. He straightens at once when he sees Jim enter and clasps his hands behind his back.

“Captain,” he says in a voice carefully void of emotion.

Jim refrains from rubbing a hand over his face. They’re not off to a good start.

“Khan,” he says, crossing the room and stopping a few feet away from the other man. “It’s good to have you on board.”

Khan seems undecided whether to return the sentiment if the frown flickering across his face is any indication.

All at once, Jim is flooded with such an intense feeling of hopelessness that he’s on the verge of bolting. What good would it do to tell Khan how much he means to him, that he feels like being torn apart from the inside at the thought of losing him? It wouldn’t change a thing. Khan would still have to leave for Ceti Alpha V and Jim… Jim would go back to being captain of a starship, exploring the galaxy like he always dreamed he would.

Somehow, the thought doesn’t hold the same appeal it once did.

 Jim swallows around the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.” He is about to turn away when Khan’s voice stops him in his tracks.

“Jim.”

Khan’s eyes are dark with some unknown emotion. “Thank you. For everything.” He clenches his jaw. “None of this would be possible if it hadn’t been for you.”

The sincerity in Khan’s words is so palpable that Jim finds himself choking up. There’s not really anything to say to that, so he just nods before continuing with the business at hand:

“You’ll do well on Ceti Alpha V. We’ll beam down emergency shelters, medical supplies, some basic provisions until you get yourselves sorted. It’s going to be a struggle at first, but once you’ve established a food source, I expect it will be smooth sailing.”

Khan inclines his head in agreement. “Ironically, the Federation is punishing me with the one thing I have always wanted – a world to win, an empire to build.”

Jim’s mouth is dry as he takes in the words. Khan sounds more like the man from the history books now than he ever has since Jim has come to know him, yet there is a sadness about him that belies his spirited declaration.  

“Better to rule in hell than serve in heaven, right?” Jim jokes in an awkward attempt to lighten the mood. He sobers quickly at the look on Khan’s face. “I wish… I wish things could have gone differently.”

Khan lowers his eyes. “So do I.”

“I could come with you.” The words are out of his mouth before Jim has the chance to fully grasp their meaning.

Khan snorts in surprise. “Don’t be absurd.”

“I’m serious,” Jim insists, deciding to run with it. “It would be a challenge, an adventure! Building a new world on a planet that’s barely habitable – it doesn’t get more exciting than that. − And we could be together,” he adds quietly.

Khan shakes his head. “Jim, think about what you’re proposing. You’re talking about tying yourself to this planet for _life_. My family and I, we will never be allowed to leave, _ever_. It’s the equivalent of being thrown into a dungeon and the key thrown away. Starfleet has made it clear that they consider us too dangerous to ever engage with again. There will be no further contact once Ceti Alpha V is quarantined. You would lose everything, your friends, your career, your ship. I can’t allow that.”

Jim bristles at the rejection. “I told you before, this is _my_ decision to make. Who are you to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do?”

“I love you. I think that gives me the right to –” Khan stops abruptly, the color draining from his face.

Jim gasps. For a few seconds, he can’t believe what he just heard. His heart feels like it’s going to beat its way out of his chest.

He has to swallow twice before he is able to speak again. “If you love me, then why are you fighting me on this? Why won’t you let us be together?”

Khan’s voice has gone so quiet that Jim can barely hear him. “Because it would require you to give up everything you are. I could never ask that of you.”

“You wouldn’t have to ask. I’m giving it freely.”

“Jim −”

The sound of the comm signal makes them both jump. “Bridge to Captain.”

It takes Jim a moment to recognize Sulu’s voice, another to get his feet moving to walk over to the intercom. “Kirk here.”

“Captain, our current heading takes us straight into an ion storm. I’ve plotted an alternate route to accommodate.”

“I’ll be right there. Kirk out.”

When Jim looks back at Khan, he has his eyes averted.

“Just think about it,” Jim says through the tightness in his throat. He leaves for the bridge before has the chance to start begging.

*~*~*

If he’s honest with himself, the offer to stay with Khan on Ceti Alpha V, as genuinely as it was meant at the time, scares the living crap out of Jim. He has never been one for long-term relationships – the closest he’s come to a commitment was the time when he dated Jessica Spinelli for a month in tenth grade – so pledging himself to Khan for the rest of his life is one hell of a big step.

It still feels right somehow to have made the offer.

There are other things to take into account, too. Because Khan was right – Jim would have to give up everything if he chose to stay on Ceti Alpha V: his home, his career, but most importantly of all the _Enterprise_ and her crew, who have become closer to Jim than he has ever thought possible. Was he really willing to lose all this for the chance to be with Khan? What if it didn’t work out between them? He would be stuck on a desolate planet in the company of six dozen augments for the rest of his life. Was he a fool for even considering going down that road?

After a restless night full of conflicting thoughts, Jim climbs out of bed in the early hours of the morning. The face that greets him in the mirror looks even more sleep-deprived than he expected, so he takes some time to freshen up before heading down to Deck 7 for his daily check-in with Bones.

His head is still spinning when he passes a couple of security guards flanking the door to walk into a nearly empty medbay. A lone nurse is labelling tissue samples and smiles distractedly at him before bending over her work table again. Jim is about to make for Bones’ office when the sound of his own name coming from somewhere makes him pause.

“I just don’t get why you won’t tell Jim.”

It’s Bones. Jim frowns, looking around. His friend seems to be standing behind a partition that separates the rear section from the rest of medbay.

Then another voice answers, an equally familiar one, and Jim’s blood freezes in his veins.

“I told you before, Doctor, this isn’t your call to make. And you are bound by doctor-patient confidentiality. My decision is to keep this information private, and you are under oath to comply.”

Khan. What the hell was Khan doing in medbay, being examined by Bones?

“Don’t lecture me on protocol!” Bones snaps. “I’d bet I know a lot more about ethics than you do!”

“Then you will keep this to yourself.”

Jim hears Bones let out a long-suffering sigh. “Khan, I don’t like it. You’re bound for a planet that’s barely class M. Sure, I can give you the necessary medical equipment, but if anything goes wrong –”

“I’m an augment, I can handle this. And I won’t be alone.”

“Still, I would feel a lot better if –”

“What’s going on?”

It’s almost comical to watch both Khan and Bones whip around at the sound of his voice. Jim probably would have laughed if it hadn’t been for the icy panic in his chest that made it difficult to breathe.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks Khan, who is sitting on one of the biobeds.

When he doesn’t get an answer, Jim turns to Bones instead. “Is he sick?”

Bones gapes at him, then looks at Khan with a pleading expression on his face.

“Will somebody please tell me what the _hell_ is going on?” Jim bellows against the fear constricting his throat.

Jim watches Khan and Bones exchange another glance. After what seems like ages, Khan finally lets his shoulders slump in defeat.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jim asks again, bracing himself for the answer.

Bones sighs. “Technically, nothing – now don’t bite my head off!” he yells when Jim takes a threatening step towards him. “I’m serious.” Bones draws a deep breath. “He’s pregnant, Jim.”

There’s a beat.

“What?”

In lieu of answering, Bones sighs and switches on a monitor next to the biobed. It shows what appears to be the scan of a human abdomen and there, clearly visible, nested between several organs Jim is too stunned to identify –

“He’s about nine weeks along and the fetus is developing normally, as far as I can tell. Its growth rate appears to be a bit faster than average, but that’s to be expected, given the baby’s parentage.”

Jim swallows. It takes an enormous effort to formulate words.

“How… How is this possible?” Jim turns to Khan, who up until now has been utterly silent. “You told me you couldn’t… You said the doctors at the Io Facility –”

Khan clears his throat. “That is the information I was given.”

“Yeah, and apparently Mr. Superbrain here took them at their word,” Bones says, raising his eyebrows in exasperation. “The same doctors that followed each of Marcus’s twisted orders and administered the injections that made him go into premature heat.”

“I had no reason to doubt their assessment,” Khan counters, but there’s no real conviction in his voice.

“So…that means – a baby?” Jim asks, slowly coming to grips with the situation.

Bones nods, still looking apprehensively at Jim.

“How long have you known about this?” Jim’s not even sure who the question is directed at, Bones or Khan.

It’s Bones who answers. “I discovered it when we talked to Khan at the courthouse.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

Bones winces. “It wasn’t for me to say.”

Jim mulls over the words. “No. No, I guess it wasn’t.” He stares at Khan, who doesn’t meet his eyes.

“How could you keep this from me?” Jim asks, forcing his voice to stay level. “Were you just going to beam down to Ceti Alpha V in a couple of days without ever telling me that I was going to have a _child_?”

Khan jumps off the biobed and crosses his arms in front of his chest, but Jim doesn’t allow himself to be deterred.

“What were you thinking? That I was going to deny all responsibility, that I was going to blame you for lying to me about being able to conceive?”

Next to him, Bones shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“What?” Jim snaps at him.

“How you two ever made this work in the first place is beyond me,” Bones says, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. “Jim, isn’t it obvious? Your boyfriend here was concerned that you might jump ship and burn all bridges to join him in exile after finding out.− Apparently, self-sacrifice is only acceptable in super-humans,” he adds, looking reproachfully at Khan.

“Well, tough luck, cause that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Jim says decisively.

“No!” Khan yells, looking straight at Jim for the first time since Bones informed him of the pregnancy. “Jim, _please_ , listen to me. You can’t do this. Not for my sake and not…not for the sake of this child.”

“You mean _our_ child.”

Khan flinches but stands his ground. “The baby will be fine. I promise you, we will take good care of it. You don’t need to give up your entire life just because of one mishap. This doesn’t change anything.”

Jim takes a deep breath, ignoring the twist in his gut at hearing Khan describe their baby as a _mishap_. He was not going to let himself be side-tracked.

“Do you want us to be together?” he asks, facing Khan dead-on.

“That’s not the issue –”

“That’s the _only_ issue! Look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t want me to come with you. Tell me that you don’t want us to raise this child, _our_ child, together on this planet, and I will never speak of it again.”

Khan squirms like being caught in some kind of painful inner struggle. “I… I don’t –”

Jim’s heart is breaking as he watches Khan trying to force out the words he so obviously doesn’t mean. His whole face is scrunched up with the strain and his eyes have started to glisten.

“Khan, stop it,” Jim says after a minute, unable to bear the display in front of him any longer. “I’m coming with you. End of story.”

Khan shakes his head, now visibly choking back tears. “You can’t –”

“Don’t you get it? I’m doing this because I love you, because I _want_ to be with you. For once in your life, accept the fact that someone else is giving up something for you, not the other way around. Love is not a one-way street, Khan. You can’t keep on giving and never be open to receive. That’s not how it works.”

“I couldn’t bear to see you unhappy,” Khan says, his voice breaking.

“Then let me do this. Watching you beam down onto this planet and staying behind, knowing what we could have had together – that’s what _I_ couldn’t bear. Khan,” Jim says, taking a tentative step closer. “I mean it. I’m with you for the long haul, you _and_ our child. Please trust me to know that I’m doing the right thing.”

At that, Khan raises his head and meets Jim’s eyes. “I need you to be sure,” he says hoarsely.

“I _am_ sure. More sure than I have been of anything else in my life.”

Khan lets out a long breath and closes his eyes. At long last, he nods, and the answering surge of joy makes Jim’s heart leap.

“Okay?” he asks, needing to hear it out loud.

“Okay,” Khan says, closing the last distance between them and leaning his forehead against Jim’s.

*~*~*

Jim goes through the rest of the day on autopilot, struggling to wrap his mind around what happened, and what he is about to do.

Khan is pregnant. They’re going to have a baby, an actual _child_ , and they’re going to raise it together. On Ceti Alpha V, a planet that Jim is going to colonize alongside a bunch of genetically engineered convicts, and that he is never going to leave again, _ever_.

This is crazy. This is without a doubt the craziest decision Jim has ever made.

At the same time, it feels like the most reasonable one.

Khan and he would finally be together. Their happily-ever-after though, comes with a huge price-tag attached. It’s curious, Jim muses, how fairy tales always managed to leave that part out.

He wanders the corridors of the _Enterprise_ in a daze, trying to come to grips with the fact that after this journey, he would never set foot on her again. He consciously commits details to memory: the sparkling white of her walls, the slight staleness in the air, the humming of her engines. Since there isn’t much in the sense of personal belongings he would be able to take with him to Ceti Alpha V, all he is left with is this – his memories of the _Enterprise_ and her crew. Jim barely has forty-eight hours left to cherish it all before he has to let it go.

News travels fast on a ship this size, which means crew members keep coming up to him to wish him well and tell him how much they’ll miss serving under him. Jim’s senior officers, on the other hand, barely talk to him all day, though their looks speak volumes.

Jim spends the afternoon flitting from department to department to tie up any loose ends he can think of. He dodges three calls from Starfleet Command, no doubt intended to coax him into rethinking his decision. There are recommendations to log and even more tasks to assign, so Jim has already had his fill when he finally brings himself to initiate the talk he’s been putting off all day and approaches Spock at his station.

“Can we have a word? In private?”

Spock shoulders tighten but he doesn’t turn around. “Certainly, Captain.”

“Walk with me.”

They leave the bridge and enter the turbolift, Spock staring daggers at the wall as they descend. Jim will never get how the Vulcan manages to express every single emotion he claims not to have as clear as day without moving so much as a facial muscle.

After a few minutes of stony silence, Jim hits the emergency brake. Better to get this over with now, and quickly.

“Okay, Spock, let’s hear it,” Jim says once the turbolift has come to a halt. “I take it you disagree with my decision to join Khan in exile.”

“Indeed I do, Captain,” Spock says in a flat voice. “It is rash, unpremeditated, and worst of all, Starfleet will lose one of its most distinguished commanding officers.”

“You do get that Khan’s pregnant, right? And that I’m going to be a father?”

“Nevertheless, your decision lacks all common sense and can only be regarded as foolhardy. It’s grounded solely in sentiment.”

“I didn’t say it was rational,” Jim says, taking a deep breath before looking at the Vulcan again. “Spock, I know you’re not as ignorant of human emotions as you claim to be. So on some level, you’ve got to understand what it means for us to take care of our own. Khan and this baby, they’re my family now. I can’t abandon them.”

“One could argue that the crew of the _Enterprise_ is also your family, much as the former crew of the _Botany Bay_ is Khan’s.”

Jim hangs his head. “They are. _You_ are, Spock.” He holds up a hand as the Vulcan opens his mouth to interrupt. “I know I’m leaving you in a tight spot. It’s not what I would have chosen, had things gone differently. But the way they are now…don’t you see, Spock? I have to do this. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t.”

Spock lets out a heavy sigh. “I have long since learned that it is pointless to argue with you once your mind is made up.”

“On the contrary, Spock − you’ve helped me shape my decisions more than you can know. I’ve always valued your advice and your insight.” Jim smiles to himself as he is suddenly reminded of a situation very similar to this one. “The truth is: I’m gonna miss you.”

Spock’s head snaps up and there’s a spark of recognition in his eyes. He holds Jim’s gaze, but doesn’t seem near as puzzled as the last time they were saying goodbye. It’s almost as if the Vulcan has since come to grasp the meaning behind the concept.

“I am going to miss you too, Jim.”

Jim swallows thickly, and for a moment, words fail him. He has to clear his throat to compose himself.

“I need you to take over command of the _Enterprise_ when we reach Ceti Alpha V.”

Spock nods. “I give you my word that I will tend to her to the best of my abilities.”

“I know you will, Spock.” Jim meets the Vulcan’s eyes and clasps his arm, hoping the gesture would convey what his words couldn’t. “I know you will.”

                                                                                              *~*~*                                                                                             

Jim feels drained when he reaches his quarters that evening. Faces and images keep floating through his mind, scraps of conversations he’d held during the day, and the ever-present lump of sadness in his chest threatens to crush him under its weight. He decides to skip dinner and collapses on the bed instead, barely taking the time to pull off his boots before burying his face in his pillow.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knows, there’s a hand in his hair and a presence next to him on the mattress. The scent that greets him is soothingly familiar and Jim lets out a contented sigh, snuggling up to the owner of that oh-so-comforting hand.

“Good morning,” Jim mumbles against Khan’s thigh.

“It’s barely midnight.”

“How come you’re here?”

“Apparently, the captain ordered to have me brought to his quarters as soon as he was off-duty. You’ll have to take it up with him if you want to lodge a complaint.”

“No complaints,” Jim says, still refusing to open his eyes. “This captain of yours ought to be commended.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Khan says, pressing a kiss to the top of Jim’s head. “In fact, I would say he deserves a reward.”

The rumble in Khan’s voice stirs something deep inside Jim. He blinks his eyes open and raises his head, but before he has the chance to do anything else, Khan’s lips are on his.

In the course of a few seconds, Jim is wide awake. _Good lord_ , how he’s missed this – the pressure of their mouths moving against each other, the tangle of tongues, the delicious sting of teeth every now and then.

“You’re my reward,” Jim gasps when they come up for air. He cradles Khan’s jaw, taking in the contours of his face. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“You don’t have to,” Khan says, suddenly serious. “You can still back out if you’ve changed your mind.”

“I haven’t changed my mind, and I’m not going to.” Jim resumes the kissing, climbing into Khan’s lap as he does so. Pressed flush against his body, Jim can feel that Khan is as hard as he is, both of them eager and overzealous after so many weeks apart.

“Clothes,” Jim manages during the next pause, already tugging at Khan’s shirt to get rid of it. He longs to drag his fingers over the wide expanse of skin again, to feel each dip and curve along their path.

Khan complies hurriedly, clearly unwilling to break the physical contact between them for longer than necessary. They tumble back into bed as soon as they’re naked, Jim pinning Khan beneath him, their hard-ons rubbing against each other.

“Take me,” Khan grinds out between heavy breaths. “Take me now.” He emphasizes the command by crossing his ankles at Jim’s back and pulling him in.

There’s no place for coherent thought anymore. Jim untangles himself, hooks Khan’s legs over his shoulders and pushes in, deeper and deeper, watching in awe how Khan just _takes_ it, his back arched and his head thrown back in abandon. The sensation of being enveloped by Khan, to have that tight heat around him again at last, elicits a groan from Jim that he’s sure can be heard all the way down to engineering.

Jim starts moving, forcing himself to go slow, but he soon abandons all restraint when he realizes that neither of them is going to last much longer. He then starts pounding Khan for real, adjusting the angle until he’s sure to hit Khan’s prostate with every thrust. The man beneath him seems close to sobbing, his nipples are peaked, and his cock flushed and leaking.

Jim barely needs to touch Khan for him to come and spurt his release all over his stomach and chest. Jim’s own orgasm hits him like a wave crashing against a cliff. Spent and shaking, he remembers the mess on Khan’s torso just in time to roll over onto the mattress.

They lie there side by side, catching their breaths, stunned into silence. With his higher brain functions slowly returning, Jim realizes that he’d never expected sex with Khan to be this intense outside of heat. But apparently it doesn’t take the additional cocktail of hormones for the sparks between them to ignite.

Jim gets up on wobbly legs to fetch a washcloth from the bathroom. When he climbs back into bed, Khan is still on his back, staring at the ceiling. Jim takes his time to wipe the mess off his stomach and chest, indulging in the sensation of skin and bones and muscle.

“You’re amazing,” Jim whispers, overwhelmed by the surge of emotion within him.

Khan turns his head to look at him. His eyes are so full of adoration that Jim can barely take it. Khan reaches out a hand to gently trace Jim’s face.

“You are a superior man, James Kirk.” The way Khan says it is so serious and solemn that Jim’s objection to the odd phrasing dies in his throat. “I am honored to take you with me to Ceti Alpha V.”

“Is that so?” Jim quips, feeling a little unsettled by Khan’s earnestness. His gaze drops to his own hand that’s still drawing circles on Khan’s stomach, mindful of the life growing just beneath his fingertips.

“This is incredible. A baby? You and me?” He presses a kiss just below Khan’s navel. “I never thought this could happen.”

“Neither did I,” Khan says, a trace of the old anguish coloring his voice.

“It’s a miracle,” Jim agrees, pressing another kiss onto Khan’s stomach.

“So you really don’t mind?”

The tension underlying the words makes Jim lift his head and squint at Khan. “What do you mean?”

Khan pointedly avoids his gaze. “Like I said before, I wouldn’t want you to do this because you’re feeling obligated. We both went into this agreeing there were no strings attached.”

“Do we need to have this conversation again? My place is at your side, Khan. Baby or not, it makes no difference to me. I would choose to come with you either way.” He sits up to kiss the frown off Khan’s face. “Truth be told, you’re giving me a gift. I never thought I would have a family of my own.”

The phrase seems to clear up whatever reservations Khan still held, for he pulls Jim closer with a sense of entitlement that he has never allowed himself before. It’s like it’s settled now, a done deal that they were going to be together for the rest of their lives. Jim’s heart is so full of joy that he wonders if it’s possible to spontaneously combust from happiness.

Thanks to his augmented body’s shorter refractory period, Khan is already half-hard again, but Jim knows that he himself will need a little more time. It’s the perfect opportunity to indulge in some of the fantasies that have been keeping him awake over the last months.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he murmurs in Khan’s ear. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to try.”

Khan raises his eyebrows, but whatever he sees on Jim’s face makes him comply without protest. Jim’s mouth is watering when he takes in the sight of Khan’s naked ass stretched in the air, the pose both trusting and erotic.

Jim takes his time to knead Khan’s cheeks, to savor the tautness of skin and muscle before spreading them apart and diving between them. He carefully circles Khan’s hole with his tongue, causing Khan to respond with a full-body shudder. Jim spends some time licking the puckered skin before sweeping his tongue over Khan’s perineum and back up again, all the way along the cleft. Khan whimpers at each new sensation, small broken sounds that only serve to egg Jim on.

After a few broad strokes Jim stops to tease Khan’s hole again with fluttery licks before breeching it with the tip of his tongue. Khan answering moan tells Jim that he’s on the right track, so he delves deeper, tasting the wetness inside Khan’s passage, wriggling his tongue to elicit desperate little moans from Khan. His own face is dripping with saliva and Khan’s natural lubricant by now, and it’s so gorgeously filthy that Jim finds himself yearning for release once more.

He kisses Khan’s hole one last time, grabs hold of his own cock to give it a few tugs, and then lines up. Khan is so loose by now that the entrance is even smoother than usual, and Jim glides home in one purposeful thrust. He bends over Khan’s back to link their hands together, to cover every inch of Khan that he is able to. Then he starts moving.

It’s a slower pace this time around, but it’s all the more intense for it. Sweat is gathering between their bodies as they slide against each other, their mingling breaths heavy in the air. Jim’s arousal is building up like a cascade, a maddening crescendo of pleasure, and Khan’s low-pitched moans tell him that the augment is just as far gone as he is.

Before he has reached his peak, Jim can feel the bulge forming at the base of his cock. Remembering the awesome feeling of coming inside Khan while knotted, Jim doesn’t have to think twice. Having made sure that Khan is okay with where things are going, he grabs Khan’s waist with both hands and readjusts his position.

“Don’t come yet.”

Judging by the answering groan, Khan isn’t particularly keen on this part of the plan, but he still reaches for his cock to stave off his orgasm.

“Just a little longer, babe,” Jim coos, carefully pushing his knot against Khan’s hole. It’s still loose from the rimming, so it takes almost no effort to breech it and lock himself inside Khan, sealing their connection.

“That’s it, we’re almost there,” Jim grinds out, stars dancing in front of his eyes from the overwhelming sensation of being so closely tied to the man he loves.

Just as he is about to tell Khan to let go and to give in to his own desperate need for release, Jim’s eyes are drawn to Khan’s left shoulder blade, to the spot that he knows will trigger a bonding. The desire to sink his teeth into the other man’s flesh is more powerful now than ever, and with it comes the urge to stake his claim, to broadcast to the whole world that Khan is _HIS_ and his alone.

“Do it,” Khan gasps, clutching the pillow with the hand that’s not holding his cock.

“What?”

“Do it. I want you to.”

“You don’t even know –”

“For heaven’s sake, just _bond_ with me already! I can’t …” Khan draws a shuddering breath that’s followed by a groan. “There is no one else for me. You are my Alpha. I…” He lets out a strangled sigh that gives way to a whimper. “ _Please_ , Jim.”

Every reservation Jim had flies out of the window at the begging tone in Khan’s voice. He allows his instincts to take over, trusting in the primal drive to guide him through the ritual. With all the force he can muster, Jim sinks his teeth into Khan’s shoulder, burrowing himself as deeply as he can go.

He instantly knows he has hit the right spot when Khan cries out − in pain or pleasure, Jim has no idea. It’s like something settles between them then, some kind of invisible connection that binds them together much more intimately than any knotting ever could.

It’s at this moment that Khan reaches his climax and comes, still keening, and the tremors wrecking his body take Jim over the edge as well. He tastes blood on his tongue while his own orgasm thunders through him and he spills his seed inside Khan, still locked tightly in place.

They are one now in every sense of the word: flesh and blood and soul. _Bonded_.

*~*~*

When Jim comes to again, Khan’s breathing has evened out and his head is resting on his arms. Jim’s knot hasn’t deflated yet, so he knows he can’t have been out for long. The bite mark on Khan’s shoulder is still an angry red and Jim licks the wound to soothe it, even though he knows the augment’s enhanced metabolism will take care of it eventually.

He buries his face in Khan’s nape, breathing in his scent. “I love you.”

“Hngh,” comes the somewhat inarticulate response.

“Is that all you have to say?” Jim asks lightly, nibbling on Khan’s earlobe, then adding a hint of teeth to make his point.

“You know that’s not going to work with me,” Khan mumbles, not even bothering to open his eyes − a dozing lion confident in the knowledge that he’s very nearly invincible.

“So we’re bonded now,” Jim wonders out loud, for he has never been one to back off. “What does that mean exactly?”

Khan heaves a sigh, but the twitch of his lips tells Jim that he’s amused rather than annoyed. “It means we’re stuck with each other. Neither of us will be able to take another mate. Some bonded augments have even been known to experience a telepathic connection. Oh, and if one of us dies, chances are the other will die soon after.”

Jim raises his eyebrows in surprise at that last bit of information. “Really? Well then, thanks for the heads-up.”

Jim isn’t able to hold onto the depressing thought for long. Instead, his face breaks into a smile that to any outsider must look positively goofy. He presses a kiss to the mark on Khan’s shoulder, ignoring the ache in his lower back from being stuck in the same position for too long. It’s going to be a while before they’ll be able to separate again, but Jim finds that he is more than happy to tolerate the discomfort as long as Khan is with him.

*~*~*

“Now remember, you’ll need daily supplements to compensate for the higher concentration of oxygen in the air. The gravity on Ceti Alpha V is also a tad above Earth standard. My guess is that the augments will barely feel it, but I’ve included a stimulant in the first-aid kit should you experience any dizziness during the first few days. It’s not going to be a permanent problem as your metabolism will adjust to the new environment over time.”

“Bones −”

“The coordinates Spock has selected for your landing lie in the southern hemisphere. Readings indicate high percentages of amino acids and protein, which means a rich plant life, and some of it is bound to be edible. But don’t make the mistake of thinking you can stomach anything the augments do, their digestive system is way more robust than a normal human’s.”

“Bones −”

“Ling has had some basic medical training, so I’ve explained the equipment to him, but if at any time you develop symptoms of –”

“ _Bones_!” Jim finally manages to interrupt his friend’s tirade. He stops to face him, adjusting the duffel bag hanging over his shoulder. “I’ll be okay.”

“It never hurts to be prepared,” Bones mutters, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “This isn’t exactly a pleasure planet you’ve chosen to live on.”

“I know,” Jim says, smiling ruefully. “And I appreciate you looking out for me, but trust me: I’m going to be fine.”

Bones grumbles something unintelligible in response. They have come to stand just a few feet away from the transporter room, Jim notices, but neither of them seems keen on crossing that particular threshold.

“Anyway,” Bones starts again, “now that you and Khan are bonded, at least the baby stands a much better chance of being carried to term. Even under ideal circumstances, miscarriages are quite common in Omegas, especially if the Alpha isn’t present. It will go a long way if you stay close to Khan for the remainder of his pregnancy.”

“Well, I can certainly do…hang on. How do you know we’re bonded?” Jim asks, amazed.

Bones rolls his eyes. “ _Please_. You two could power the warp core, the way you’ve been glowing.”

“Oh.” Jim can’t suppress a grin at the thought of how they must come across to the crew of the _Enterprise_ – not to mention to Khan’s fellow augments, who have been throwing him funny looks whenever Jim has run into them during the previous day. “I guess that explains a lot.”

Bones harrumphs and shuffles his feet, gazing down the corridor. Jim knows the others are waiting for them in the transporter room, that the _Enterprise_ is on a schedule and has already been called back to Earth for her next assignment, yet he can’t bring himself to say goodbye. To do so would make his leaving a reality, and Jim is suddenly irrationally afraid that he won’t be able to take it.

He bites his lip in order to hold back the tears that are threatening to surface. Bones is one of the best friends he has ever had in his life. How can he possibly let him go?

In the end, it’s Bones who takes the initiative. He clears his throat, apparently fighting for his composure as much as Jim is. “Look, I know you’re doing the right thing and I would never try to talk you out of it, but _damn_ , I’m gonna miss you.”

Jim swallows. “Same here.” It’s getting harder and harder to draw a deep breath.

“To hell with this.” Bones throws his arms around Jim and pats his back before letting go abruptly. “You go on ahead,” he says, unable to hide a sniffle. “I’d rather not let Spock see me in this state. He’d never let me hear the end of it.”

He wipes a hand over his eyes and hurries down the corridor. Jim looks after him until he has turned the corner, unable to believe that he was never going to see his friend again.

The hollowed-out feeling is still with him when he enters the transporter room a couple of minutes later. Uhura, who had been leaning against Spock, jumps when she sees him and quickly straightens herself. Scotty is standing behind the transporter console, looking as though it was costing him every ounce of willpower he possessed to pull himself together.

Jim finds himself immensely relieved that he has already said his goodbyes to Sulu and Chekov on the bridge. This is going to be much harder than he had thought.

“My friends,” he says quietly, setting his duffel bag onto the transporter platform. He means to go on, but words seem laughably inadequate to express what he’s feeling at this moment.

Uhura walks up to him, her eyes large and glistening. She doesn’t say anything, just studies his face and stands on tiptoes to press a kiss against his cheek, gentle as the wings of a butterfly. Jim can still feel the touch of her lips when the door swooshes closed behind her.

When she has gone, Scotty clears his throat. “We’re all set, Captain. Khan and the others are waiting for you to join them on the surface.” The _let’s get this over with_ goes unsaid.

Jim nods and approaches Spock, whose face is impassive, his posture as immaculate as always.

“I hereby transfer command of the _Enterprise_ over to you, Mr. Spock.”

“Aye, Captain. The log shall so reflect.”

“Right.” Jim keeps standing there for a second, unsure how to break through Spock’s impenetrable wall of silence. When nothing comes to him, he walks over to Scotty instead.

“Captain,” his former chief engineer says, sounding choked-up.

“Not anymore, Scotty.” Jim doesn’t mention how much it cost him to leave his uniform behind in his quarters.

“Good luck to you.” Scotty holds out a hand, but then he seems to think better of it and pulls Jim to his chest in a bone-crushing embrace.

Jim hugs him back with equal fervor. “Thank you for everything, Scotty.”

“Nah. Just doin’ my duty.”

Jim would have liked to say more, but it’s getting difficult to talk again. Ceti Alpha V is visible on one of the monitors behind Scotty, a slowly revolving globe half-wrapped in shadow. Jim has to force himself to let go and turn around to step onto the transporter platform.

“One to beam down, Mr. Scott.”

He glances over at Spock. The Vulcan’s posture has shifted into something more malleable and now Jim is able to glimpse the human behind the mask again, the man who, despite their differences, has become closer to him than Jim had ever believed possible. He can’t think of anyone he’d rather entrust the _Enterprise_ to.

Spock raises his hand and parts his fingers in the traditional Vulcan salute. The gesture might seem distant to an outsider, but Jim has known Spock long enough to read the sadness in the lines of his face, the affection in the tilt of his head, and it’s this awareness which finally brings the tears to Jim’s eyes.

“Live long and prosper,” he hears Spock say as if from a huge distance.

“Take care, Spock.”

Jim picks the duffel bag up from the floor and shoulders it. He can’t bring himself to look at either Spock or Scotty again.

“Energize.”

As the transporter room dissolves around him, Jim takes comfort in the knowledge that Khan will be there to help him through the pain of parting. It’s going to be a struggle at first, but Jim feels sure that he will get through this – with his lover, his _Omega_ at his side.

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on tumblr!](http://merlenhiver.tumblr.com/)


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